What Evil Lurks in the Heart of Man
by bjxmas
Summary: 3.01 TM7 tag. Envy was taunting Sam with secrets long buried. The fear in Dean’s eyes wasn’t from facing the seven deadly sins. No, Dean feared the truth. It was sordid and unsavory and so very wrong on so many levels, but God help him, Sam needed to know
1. Lust

The Magnificent Seven tag.

Please read multiple warnings below and remember this story is rated M for a reason. There will be talk of many nasty, disgusting, evil events. Many will ultimately be shown to be lies; some will unfortunately be based in truth. The story is dark and angsty before the light, but hopefully it will all be worth it when the brothers come to an understanding at the end.

_In most of my stories I like to examine the psychological underpinnings of the Winchesters, trying to decipher their intricate personalities and figure out what makes them tick. I love all the Winchesters, but I believe we do them a disservice if we sugarcoat their lives and ignore all the tragedy they were forced to face and how strong they were to survive. I honestly hope none of this ever happened, but considering their lives and some of Dean's issues, it is entirely possible that something like this did happen during their childhood. _

_By examining these issues I truly hope for some resolution and insight into their troubled lives… at least that is my intent. _

_After the long, hot summer it was awesome to have __Supernatural__ back, but I felt the first episode lacked the emotional reveal we are so used to getting from our Winchesters. I missed the angst and brotherly bonding. Yes, the last scene was great and so desperately needed, but when I saw Jensen's interview where he said Envy __knew__ Dean my mind went into overdrive and I envisioned a scene similar to this. _

_The demon took the story places I never thought I would go, but it was necessary to tell this story._ _He gets __extremely__ harsh, but he __is__ an evil son-of-a-bitch. Remember, these are the demon's words, not mine, and definitely not always the truth. I've been told this demon is one of the nastiest, foul-mouthed, evil sonuvabitch villains ever seen in fanfics. This is without a doubt the most difficult and painful story I have ever attempted and I find it extremely unpleasant having this demon in my head. _

**Strong warnings** _for mentions of child abuse, sexual content including incest, rape, underage non-con, and coerced prostitution, explicit language, and so much evil filth coming out of the demon's mouth I can't believe I am even writing down what he has to say… but I promise, although the Winchesters' lives are difficult and painful, the brothers will come out intact at the end and hopefully closer and more in tune with each other. In my stories the boys always turn out all right.., well, as alright as Winchesters can be. I'll also go on record as a staunch supporter of John. _

_Although I am by no means an expert on this subject, I am trying to act responsibly here and only hope I can bring some enlightenment to some very difficult and sad issues. I have considerable empathy for the characters, I've done my research, and most importantly, all of my chapters are reviewed by a dear friend who is a professional counselor and has a Masters in Psychology. Please let me know if you see any troubling inconsistencies. _

_-- _

_There is strength and hope in knowledge. _

_If you or someone you know has experienced any of these issues, please seek help and counseling. There is no shame in asking for help. We all need help when life becomes too harsh._

--

If all this seems too intense and painful to read then maybe you should skip it and catch my next story which I'm sure will be more within my norm and more cheery, although I do think this _is_ some of my best writing… but then what do I know? It certainly hits on the emotional chords, but when you are dealing with the Winchesters and their fractured lives that isn't so very difficult. Unfortunately for Sammy, he is about to discover the fallacy in the old saying, "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Oh, if only that were true.

And just for the record, any similarities to Sin City are simply great minds thinking alike. I never read the spoilers and much of this story was written before that episode aired. And yes, I did write the Pride chapter _before_ DALDOM aired. I will admit I do get a thrill when my stories dovetail so nicely with the show's direction.

_If you're still around and I haven't scared you off, thanks for reading, B.J._

What Evil Lurks in the Heart of Man

"_Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust." _John Webster

Chapter One – Lust

"Dean… _Dean_." The name dripped off the evil bastard's lips and sounded dirty, tainted, repulsive, so unlike the actual man, good and noble, a hero who would sacrifice his own soul for his kid brother without a thought toward his own impending side-trip to Hell. "So _good _to finally meet you." He licked his lips, his delight at this encounter making his eyes dance with malice. He snickered then, ever trying to twist whatever device he could to torment the humans. "You're _shorter_ than I imagined.., but then, maybe it's just the company you keep. Sam… _Sammy_," the demon chuckled, low and sinister, black eyes smoldering with overbearing pleasure, embodying all of the seven deadly sins with total disregard for retribution as he turned his attention to the younger Winchester. Hell, that _was_ one of the perks of the job.

His job kept him entertained in oh, so many ways. He delighted in watching all those messy insides spilling out to the outside, nasty and gross, and so very tasty. His greatest satisfaction came when he got to help them along with just a gentle nudge. That's all it took. Most people were so close, just waiting for an excuse, a justification; all they needed was a soft whisper of want to push them over the edge to darkness, into the shadows where he and his friends played. "Sammy… _little Sammy_… not so little now, is he, Dean?" He cast his eyes sideways to again look upon the older of the two, "But _you_ still have to play the big brother, now don't you?"

"Shut the hell up," Dean yelled as he threw holy water across the chest of the demon causing it to writhe in agony as steam rose up with an awful hiss. "Sam, you want the honor of sending this evil sonofabitch back to Hell?"

"Dean, wait." Sam grimaced even as he said it, preferring to be rid of this evil as soon as possible, but knowing that in war sometimes you had to play all the angles.

Dean quickly looked up, his eyebrows arched, silent eyes searching. "Wait? Why? What for?"

Sam walked over to study the demon strapped to the chair beneath the devil's trap painted on the ceiling; the demon, Leviathan, intently returning his gaze. "We need to know what we're up against. We exorcise him back to Hell and we still have six more to deal with."

"Yeah, Sam, six instead of seven. I figure we'll just keep whittling them down."

"No, Dean. We need to know their plans… what they're going to do next."

"Do next? You're kidding, right? We _know_ what they're going to do. They're gonna wreak havoc and kill people. _That's _what they're gonna do," Dean responded incredulously, his eyes begging to be rid of this garbage and his filthy lies just waiting to assault them.

"Yeah, but how?" Sam shook his head and locked eyes with his brother. "Dean, we need to find out everything we can before… "

"_Yes_, Sammy, you _are_ so very wise… _trust me_… you want to hear what I have to say," the demon taunted, his voice drooling with the offer of salacious chit-chat, filled to capacity with the threat of impending mayhem. "Now, Dean there, he's a little shy. I don't think he wants you to hear what I know."

Dean snickered, "Yeah, right. Like you know crap?"

"Dean, I know everything about you. You're a walking encyclopedia of sin, aren't you?"

"Yeah? Yesterday's news. You got somethin' better 'cause otherwise you're toast." Dean was caressing the worn leather of the book holding the Latin words that would send this bastard back to Hell. He started flipping through the pages looking for just the right incantation.

"Oh, I have so much inside information, Sammy. I _know_ things. Just how well do you think you know your brother?" The demon was smiling a twisted, smug grin, his eyes steady on Sam… waiting… _waiting… almost there… one more moment…_ Sam shifted nervously, his face a testament to his anguish, an anguish born of the realization that Dean had traded his soul for his brother's life. Sam Winchester was the poster boy for the sensitive, scared, fractured embodiment of grief; while Dean held so many delicious fears battling for dominance, each one more bitter and broken than the last. It brought the demon so much unrestrained joy just to be in the same room with these Winchesters; Sammy's tortured emo guilt over living when he should be maggot feed and Dean… _yes, Dean_… no one came close to the quivering emotional devastation that was Dean Winchester. _Ummm, so very tasty. _He sucked in their pain, feeling it roll down his throat like the elixir of life.

"I said shut-up!" Dean threw more holy water across the demon and smirked as the thing screamed. "Sammy, he's not going to tell us anything. It's a lost cause." He cast a pleading gaze toward his brother, his eyes silently willing him to just let this one go. The safest bet here was to exorcise the demon before he latched on to your mind, before he got to play his twisted game with your very soul. "Sam… he just wants to toy with us. Don't let him."

Sam heard his brother's words and it made perfect sense. The hunter in him was in total agreement, this demon would never tell them the other demons' plans, would never betray his comrades, but then Sam looked up and saw fear in Dean's eyes. Not from the danger of facing the seven deadly sins personified. No.., Dean feared something else, something _more_. Sam shook at the realization. Dean feared the truth. And that thought scared Sam more than the impending battle. Just what was this demon waiting to say? What hidden truths could he reveal? He could see it in Dean's eyes, the terror of being stripped naked and exposed by this demon, all his hidden secrets laid bare as his protective walls crumbled under the harsh glare of the truth.

All reason left Sam and he found himself reacting to pure emotion; his heart desperate and reeling from the events of the last week and stretching for answers. Answers to questions he hadn't yet formulated in his own mind, but he knew he needed to know. He needed to know the truth. He needed to understand his brother before it was too late. His heart seized in a violent spasm as his mind took him down that long road of no return, where right and justice refused to tread, where his brother would perish in one year's time.

Sam turned toward the demon, his gut clenched tight as he stepped on the landmine. Demons lie. He knew that. They tormented you with misperceptions and total fabrications… but they also sometimes told the truth, but only if the truth could bring about pain. Sam was already in pain, a little more couldn't possibly hurt all that much, and if it brought enlightenment then it would be pain well spent.

"So.., tell me," Sam whispered.

"Sam…" Dean's voice was distant; a sharp edge to it, but it was lost somewhere in the vast space between them. Sam's focus now fixed on the demon and the tales he could tell.

The demon rolled his lips over shiny white teeth, his tongue darting out to moisten them, waiting… _waiting_… until he heard those three little words… _gotcha!_ He offered a broad welcoming smile, drawing Sam into his web. "Sammy, what would you like to hear? Which vice tops the list?"

Dean's voice was cold and insistent. "Sam, _no._ Don't you listen to this crap." He turned to the demon, the threat evident, "You shut the fuck up."

For the demon it was perfectly timed when Bobby came running into the room at that precise moment, his face flushed, an urgent tone to his voice. "Dean, c'mon."

Dean reacted quickly to the panic in Bobby's voice, shifting to follow him before grinding to a halt as he passed Sam, bringing that urgency to second place behind his need to protect his kid brother. He stood there staring at Sam as Bobby yelled at him to move his ass. Distracted, Dean snapped, "Bobby, what?"

"Dean, I need you now!" Bobby growled, the impending danger from the remaining demons his only focus. Time was short and they needed to prepare.

Sam recognized the need in Dean's eyes, the harrowed look at leaving this demon alone with his brother diverting his attention from the job. Sam's welfare and protection again more important than any job. "Dean, go. Bobby needs you."

"Sam?"

"Go."

Dean glared at the demon's smug, victorious grin and hauled off slamming his fist hard into the tormenting face. The force almost knocked the demon to the floor, the chair he was strapped to teetering precariously before settling again on all four legs. The powerful blow succeeding in knocking the demon unconscious, his head lulling to the side and hanging there like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Dean glanced at his brother and concern spread across his face before quickly receding into a gentle plea, unspoken but needy, desperate even, before his voice found him, "Sam, don't you listen to a word he says. You hear me?"

"He doesn't look to be doing much talking now, does he?" Sam wearily replied.

Dean slammed the leather book with the exorcism in his brother's hands and offered one final order, "He wakes up.., you exorcise him. You hear me?"

"Yeah, Dean. You better go."

Dean straightened out his tense shoulders and gave his brother one last soulful look before hurriedly following Bobby out the back door. Sam heard Bobby's car start up and only momentarily wondered where they were off to. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered now was the evil that sat across from him and the secrets he might reveal.

Sam watched as the demon raised his head and smiled. "Your brother never was that smart."

"So." Sam stood behind a barstool barely three feet before the demon, his fingers wrapped tight around the wooden seat, like he needed the meager support it offered as he faced off against the demon. "You were saying?"

"Where shall we start? The list is _so _long… but then you knew that. You aren't entirely ignorant of your brother's failings, are you, Sammy boy?"

Sam shuddered, but his eyes fixed in determination. He felt like he was betraying Dean by allowing this monster to defile his good name and all the great accomplishments of his life, and a part of him wanted to bust the demon's jaw himself for daring to speak Dean's name. But a part of him needed to know and Dean wasn't talking. It was sordid and unsavory and so very wrong on so many levels… but God help him, he needed to know.

"Well, you're Envy. Sounds like as good a place to start as any. So is Dean envious of something?"

"Something?" Leviathan chuckled, low and throaty, and his smirk was so maddening, so sinister. "Not something, Sammy… some_one_."

Sam looked up and blinked back tears that were starting to form, the fear building as if he already knew the answer. The words of the shapeshifter in St. Louis fresh in his mind, always there… buried deep so he didn't have to face that bitter truth every time his brother sacrificed another piece of himself for the good of the family, but _always there._

_He sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. I had to stay home… with Dad. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?_

Sam focused his mind on the task at hand and steadied his features; he wasn't going to let this evil bastard win at this game they were playing. "Well, don't keep me hanging here. You got something to say… _say it_."

That wicked tongue rolled out again, slowly wetting his lips, tantalizing with hesitation before gently whispering, "No.., don't think so. I think we'll keep that tidbit for the finale." He grinned, enjoying the torment already present on Sam's face and anticipating the escalation. "Let's start with the obvious, shall we?"

Sam nodded his head in frustration, mad at himself for allowing this travesty, furious he couldn't stop the assault, but desperate to know for sure. "By all means," he calmly replied as he sat down on the stool in front of the demon.

"Let's see, what's first on the Dean Winchester send-me-straight-to-Hell list of sins? There is so much competition, but I think you'll agree Lust would have to top the list. So clear-cut, but then it has provided what little relief your poor, unfortunate brother has so desperately sought out. It wasn't his first sin by far, but it has been the most consistent. He not only sealed his own fate, but he's taken a considerable number of tainted women along for the ride… " the demon laughed at his own joke, "so to speak."

"I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't know," Sam sighed as if bored. "I mean, Dean and the ladies… not exactly breaking news."

"You got me there." The demon hunched his shoulders down and looked back to see if they were still alone. The other hunter, Tamara, was stationed at the front of the house far from the fun they were engaged in, leaving Sam to face the demon and his lurid tales all alone. With the coast clear, he smiled. "The women, yes… but how about the men? Huh? Huh, Sammy… you ever considered that? I mean, your brother is a fine piece of ass and even you have to know how sensual he is… how desirable… the carnal cravings that consume him. You've seen how women react to him. He exudes sex… why would it be any different with men? He does always seem to _need_ the attention… the validation. I mean really, what else does he have?"

"You're lying."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so." Sam's head threw back as he forced out a laugh, deep from his chest. "C'mon.., Dean? That is _so_ not true." After a few moments of silence to prove his point, Sam got a serious cast to his eyes as he stared down the demon, "Hey, newsflash, buster, this isn't the dark ages; it wouldn't matter even if it _was_ true.., but it's not. I _know_ my brother. He doesn't swing that way." Sam confidently grinned as he leaned in toward the demon, "You're lying… first strike."

"You _do_ know your brother, Sammy, but you don't know everything… otherwise, why would we be having this conversation?" Sam shifted slightly, still confident in what he knew, but a slight worry invaded his thoughts. The demon smiled as he continued, "You only know what he wants you to see, but deep down… you have to know he's twisted… _bent_… Hell, let's face it, Sammy… the boy is_ broken… _" The demon smiled, drawing out the suspense, waiting until he could feel Sam ready to snap from the dreaded anticipation. "You remember, don't you, Sammy? How he was always seeking out Daddy's approval? Didn't you ever _wonder_ about that? How far he would go to please Daddy? You first noticed it back when you were a teen, didn't you? How poor, little Sammy felt left out, 'cause Dad and Dean shared a special bond that you just couldn't compete with."

Sam trembled, his gut clenched tight and his eyes watered, but his mind couldn't grasp the concept, it was wrong, surreal, and it couldn't possibly be what the fear screamed out in his head. "What are you saying?" his voice barely audible as his fears tumbled out into the open.

The demon slowly reeled him in, the scared little boy thrashing on the line, refusing to acknowledge the sordid, dark images, but his ears couldn't deny the truth as the demon laid it all out. "It's only human to need love, Sam. Daddies get lonely too. After all, Mommy died such a long time ago and Dean looks so much like her. Can't you see why Daddy would want to reach out to that for comfort?"

Sam's eyebrows arched and his jaw dropped, his faced tensed from the implication. "You're a filthy liar. It was never like that. That's sick." The shock seemed to overwhelm Sam, and he couldn't even react. He sat there unable to fight back, numb from the terror that maybe there were secrets too horrific even for Dean to bear. _But this?_ This never happened; that much he knew with certainty. Yeah, their lives were twisted; so far beyond normal they'd need fucking binoculars to even see normal off in the distance, but _this? No, it never happened… neither Dad or Dean would ever be that twisted. It was perverted and it was a lie._

"I know this is difficult, but then the truth can be painful… and so very cruel. No one wants to believe something like that about someone they love. Did ya ever think, Sammy, that maybe when you're all snuggled in tight in some motel room reading a book or something, that Dean's out there looking for some random guy to play Daddy with him? Some tall, dark-haired stranger with a deep voice just raring to make him into the good little soldier again? Whip him into shape?" The demon was enjoying his little show and the effects from it. He could taste the anguish that was swallowing Sam. The pain had latched on to the young man and was simmering just beneath the surface where he was trying so desperately to contain it. The pain and anguish burning like molten lava in his gut, quietly waiting to spill out into the night.

The demon sucked in the scent of pain and pushed onward. "On some nights when Dean gets that itch… women are the last thing on his mind. That's when he needs a little Daddy lovin'… " The demon watched and waited, drawing out his tale while the younger Winchester stewed in his terror. "Poor, poor, pathetic Dean…, on really _bad_ nights he goes looking for some of Daddy's hurtin'. You can't blame him really; after all, you'd be twisted too… if Daddy did those things to you."

The words burst out of Sam, violent and terror-filled, "You shut the hell up, you lying bastard." Sam gave in to the bitter rage, and took three steps toward the demon and clocked him one right on the jaw. The demon's head whipped to the side but slowly turned back to face him, smiling as a single line of blood dripped down his chin, his tongue swirling out to lap it up. "Ummm, yummy."

"Just shut up, you perverted liar." Sam shook from the rage, disgust and contempt.

"_Wrath…_ " The demon made Hannibal Lecter's little lapping sound as he delighted in the pain filling the room. "Would you like some fava beans with that rage, Sammy? I swear my diet is going to hell in a handbasket… talk about gluttony. You Winchesters are just too damn good to me." The demon smirked, his eyes shining. "This is all so very tasty, Sammy. We'll get to Wrath in a bit, _patience_, my boy… one sin at a time now."

"I should exorcise your worthless ass back to Hell."

"Fine… _do it_," the demon taunted. He sat silently watching Sam… _watching and waiting._

Sam paced back and forth in front of the demon. His skin was crawling with the sick thoughts that bastard tried to place in his mind. He knew it was all lies… he _knew _it. Of all the lies this evil could tell, nothing could be worse than this. He knew his family was fucked up, but this… _never. _He had never been more sure of anything in his life. Dad loved them as sons, nothing more and nothing less. Dad himself would have killed any man that laid a hand on either of his sons in that way. He might have had his faults, but protecting his sons had always been the driving force in his life. The man _died_ to protect his sons… it was a mockery to hear him cast in this light. It was wrong… so fucking wrong, and the only way to right it was to send this bastard back to Hell.

Sam palmed the Latin book, flipping it open to the page Dean had earmarked, but he couldn't bring himself to mouth the words. He'd started this sick encounter and he hadn't yet learned anything insightful and he knew this demon knew something of value… he could sense it. As difficult as it was to hear the lies, and man, he wanted to see this evil burn in Hell for telling _that _lie, he knew he needed to wade through the lies to reach the truth. He locked eyes with Leviathan and took a deep breath.

"I don't believe a word of it."

"That's your choice."

Sam took another breath, his insides trembling with unexpected stirrings. The doubt and hate and uncertainty trying to break his resolve, making him question everything he knew about his family. This was a lie… _that was a given, but what truth did the demon know? _Sam still knew there was insight to be gained if he could just bear the pain of these lies. He had to stand firm. "You have anything that's not lies?"

"Sammy, I have just what you're looking for. I am proud of you though, son. It takes great courage to face that which we most don't want to believe."

"Don't you dare call me son. Just get on with it." Sam again sat down on the stool across from the demon. His hands clenched into fists and resting nervously on his knees as he waited for the onslaught of more pain.

The demon thoughtfully examined the young man before him, smiling silently to himself before continuing on, delighting in the hurt filling the room. "You said it yourself, remember? …that Dean was too macho, overcompensating… but then you're just too close to see the truth, aren't you, Sammy? The tells are there. Why do you think they always assume you're a couple? Dean oozes sex and like a dog, he doesn't care who he's humping. He's a stud, out to hire.., only he doesn't even collect, now does he? Just gives it away… " the demon snickered, low and sinister, "more like a mutt actually, sniffing out anything with a pulse. Your brother… he really is a _nasty_ boy, always has been."

Sam could no longer contain his disgust for all the lies. This demon was wallowing in the same, old tired lies and was trying to pull Sam into the garbage heap with him. He was sick of it all. He rose up and splashed holy water across the demon's face which contorted and screamed in agony. "You lying bastard. You're twisting everything. It's not true.., it's not _Dean_."

"You keep believing that, Sammy."

"Liar." Sam was matter-of-fact, sure beyond any doubt, but that didn't make it hurt any less. The lies only make him feel like he was betraying Dean even more by listening to this demon instead of exorcising him back to Hell. Sam grimaced, confident in the lies and deceit even as tears welled in his eyes. He repeated the only truth he knew, "Liar."

The demon smirked, and then he laughed, long and hard, delighting in the pained expression on Sam's face. "Oh, I almost had you there… _almost_." He tossed back his head. "Now _that_ would be a sight to gouge your eyes out over, huh, Sammy boy? Can you imagine spotting your brother in some dirty alley doing some cowboy? _Brokeback Hunter._ Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" The demon closed his eyes in a mock display of ecstasy, licking his lips and arching his eyebrows as his black eyes slowly opened and his smirk deepened. "_Lust_, it's a powerful emotion and the only one your brother regularly calls friend. And you thought your brother didn't _have_ any friends. On second thought, maybe it's more like a lover… It's been seducing him since he was a teen, desperate for love… for a tender touch." He smiled at the glimmer of recognition that formed on Sam's face. "It's pathetic, really… but oh, so very delicious."

"It's not like that. He's not hurting anyone. It's consensual. It's a natural act."

"You got it down pat, don'tcha, Sammy? Dean's words, a little justification… he _needs_ this… doesn't he _deserve_ some happiness?… it's just a release… what's the use of saving the world if you can't get a little nookie? It's a slippery slope, Sammy… and _Dean_.., Dean's on a toboggan heading for the finish line. Oh, and did I forget to mention… that's at the Gates of Hell?" The demon sat there lapping up the grief, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing and gaining sustenance. He gazed into the anguished eyes of the younger Winchester and offered more salt for his wounds, "Sorry, I know you need your little fantasy… big brother as some kind of fucking hero, but I don't think _God_ sees it your way, but then again… all the better for me. The truth is your brother has a one-way ticket to Hell, deal or no deal."

"Lies," Sam spat out, all his fury erupting. "So is that all you've got?"

"Nope.., just testing you. You're right. I was lying about the men and _Daddy_, but damn, that would be _hot_. Wouldn't it? Oh, that _was_ one of my better tales... so vivid…" he chuckled, "Technicolor and surround sound… just the pictures in my mind had me ready to jerk off. But then I always did get off on the human condition… the sickness that consumes so many families. Guess your family had enough _other_ ills, huh, Sammy? Too bad, really… I could have really savored a little interaction there… can't fault a guy for dreaming." The demon smiled at the tense posture of the young man, delighting in the wedge he was using to pry him open, stirring up the turmoil in his gut, anticipating the coming explosion when those tasty insides first saw the light of day. "See… you have nothing to fear here. You've got that demon second-sight… can't fool you… you're still one of the special children, aren't ya, Sammy? Nope, you _know_ your brother, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You know the truth… you just need me to say it, don't you?"

"You got something to say, just get to it. We don't have all night. Dean gets back and he's gonna waste you and I might even help."

"Promises, promises… but then that's what you Winchesters are good at. Right, Sammy boy?"

TBC

Next chapter – Gluttony

_This is a work-in-progress which I swore I would never again do. I much prefer working a story to death and making sure all the pieces fit before I post. It's nerve-wracking to post without the story completely worked out. This seems like a timely story that is demanding to be told so I'm gonna give it a go, but bear with me. I have found that sometimes the pressure yields unexpected good things. Let's see what happens. Again, any comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks, B.J. _


	2. Gluttony

Warnings for language and discussion of _possible_ underage non-con, and coerced prostitution. This chapter is again very intense with disturbing images.

"_Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us."_ _- _Peter De Vries

Chapter Two – Gluttony

"So, Sammy, shall we continue?"

"Why not? I've got time."

"So you have." The demon smiled slow and steady as he studied the younger Winchester, planning his next avenue of attack. He'd gotten the first taste of delicious pain wrenched from the boy over his tales of Dean's lust… but not enough…_ it was not nearly enough. _The problem there was Sam knew about big brother's proclivities concerning sex. Like all sins, Dean's appetite for sex was a natural drive most young men enjoyed. Granted, Dean was more adventurous than his little brother, and had considerably more partners over the course of his life than most men his age, but considering the life they led and his amazing physique it was hardly too surprising, and in reality almost normal. _Dean Winchester and normal in the same breath, now wasn't that a hoot? _He'd tried to twist it, wrap it up in a perverse package, but little Sammy wasn't biting… _Ah well; I have more where that came from. _

"I'm waiting."

"So you are. Patience never was your strong suit. Was it, Sammy? You always wanted what you wanted when you wanted it. Not like Dean."

That comment got a slight stir from Sam. His eyebrows quirked and his eyes squinted in concentration. "What do you mean?"

"Just that Dean's always been used to doing without… being last in line. How many times did he give you the last of the Lucky Charms? How many times did he let you finish the last bit of ice cream while he went without?"

Sam shifted nervously. He'd never thought about it… not really. Thinking back, he could remember vague images of Dean scooping up ice cream and handing him the bowl and when Sam asked if he was going to eat any, he shook his head and said he wasn't hungry. How many times had he heard Dean say that growing up? _I'm not hungry. _How many times had he ever heard him say that now? _Never. _Sam gulped down a huge breath and stared at the demon. "Tell me more."

"Ol' John sure was a dedicated son of a bitch, wasn't he? I mean, he was always so focused on the hunt, barely had time for his two young sons." Leviathan drank in the familiar pain on Sam's face, lapping it up like the sweet confection it was. This was the truth… the truth as Sam always saw it and it was so easy to twist it into something tasty. So easy to manipulate Sam's fury when it came to the way their dad raised them. "You know he sometimes ran off on the hunt and the cupboards were almost bare. Sometimes he'd think to leave a few dollars, but not always. He had more important concerns than whether his sons had food to eat."

Sam stood up and started to pace, desperately trying to shake off the familiar feelings. Feelings he thought he had laid to rest when Dad died, the anger and resentment again bubbling to the surface as he faced the toll on his brother. Dean never held a grudge, never allowed himself any reproach concerning Dad. Always sacrificing his own needs and wants for the good of the family, for the benefit of his brother.

Sam didn't know why he felt this compulsion to defend his dad to this worthless piece of shit. No one would know; no one would even care, but he did. He just couldn't stand there and let this bastard malign his dad, especially after the sick lies he'd already told about Dad and Dean. Now that he was dead, Sam had finally reconciled with his dad's rage and consuming drive to find and kill the yellow-eyed demon that had destroyed their family, and he couldn't simply stand around and let this bastard lie any longer. The fury flew out of him like a drunken punch, hard and off-kilter, but passionately felt.

"You shut the hell up about my dad. You don't know the first thing about him. He loved us… he did his best." Sam felt better as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt a slight glimmer of recognition, as if Dean were speaking through him, and he held tight to that deep bond with his brother, like they were finally on the same side of the fence united in this fight.

The demon smiled. He saw the fractures the boy so desperately tried to hide spidering out, slow and sure… just a little bit longer… just a few more words… so close… _so very close_. "Yes, of course, my mistake. Daddy Winchester _loved_ his boys… He even died for Dean, now… didn't he? No greater love than that, is there, Sammy?"

Sam winced as the knife twisted in his gut, slicing deeper and making a half-turn. _No greater love than sacrificing yourself for another._ _Like father, like son._ _Dean… _He steadied his heart as the tears welled in his eyes and he blinked them back, he couldn't let this bastard get to him, he had to be strong… he had to hear what he knew about Dean… that's all that mattered now. "We're not here to talk about Dad… tell me about Dean."

"Yes, of course, _Dean._ Let's talk about gluttony… you know, the opposite of abstinence. We already know how Dean feels about abstinence, now don't we? Not too high on the 'to do' list. Sex and drink… yes, you might say he is gluttonous about his sins… indulging in as much and as frequently as he can."

Sam sighed, again feigning boredom, "Old news… you got anything better or should I send you packing?"

"Now, now, Sammy… patience… or maybe we should delve into your sins? Huh? Or is that discussion better left to your brother?"

"I'm the one holding your very existence in my hands," Sam threatened as he thumped the leather volume against the palm of his hand. "I'd suggest you concentrate on me and what I want."

"Touché… well, where were we? Ah, yes… gluttony. Ever wonder why your big brother can never pass up an all-you-can-eat buffet? A free barbecue, even if it means one of those long, boring timeshare hard-sells? Or how about the hors d'oveuvrs at a funeral? Always stuffing his face with all the free food he can scrounge up."

Sam chuckled, a nervous smile on his face, "He's a growing boy. He gets hungry… What's your point?"

"He's like a starving animal… once you lead it to water it will gorge itself and die from bloat. Just keep eating and drinking until it bursts."

Sam snickered, "Yeah? Well I've never even seen Dean pop the top button on his jeans so I guess you're way off base there."

"Not really." The demon laughed, cold and cruel and so chilling that Sam actually shivered from three feet away. "You see, your brother may have a fast metabolism _now_, but one of these days he _will_ go too far. One day soon it will all catch up with him. He can't stop the _need_… the hunger."

Sam withdrew back into himself and softly whispered, "What hunger?"

"You know, Sammy, that empty place deep inside he's trying to fill, that void from his childhood: all the memories of going to bed hungry because he gave the last of the food to his little brother, all the feelings of want and need that were never satisfied as a child, leaving him a vacant, empty, shell of a man trying desperately to feel whole and complete. But you know it's too late, don't you? It's eating him up inside. He'll never be able to fill that hole."

Sam winced from the image of his brother lost and empty. He felt certain truths peeking out from around the edges of the lies. This is what he wanted… _needed_ to hear, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. There were still plenty of untruths in the demon's words and it was easier to attack those than face the harsh reality of the underlying truths. "We never went to bed hungry. You're lying again."

"No, Sammy, I'm not. _You_ never went to bed hungry… Dean saw to that, but him… many nights he cried himself to sleep wondering where the next meal was going to come from.., what he was going to have to do to feed his kid brother."

"Do? What are you talking about?"

"Oops! You didn't know, did you? My bad."

"Know what?" Sam braced again for the pain, unsure now whether this was true or false… praying it was false, but the doubt had been placed in his mind… the lingering questions and he couldn't pull up the answers. He was so young and Dean always took care of things… maybe… _NO!_ His imagination was already filling in the blanks and he couldn't even voice his conclusions. _It has to be lies._ "You're lying again."

"It's all right, Sammy. I know it's difficult to face. We don't have to discuss _that_. Dean would just as soon forget. Let's just focus on the gluttony, shall we? You do know Dean never passes up free food and you've got to admit he is a bit of a pig about it. Stuffing his face and wolfing down every morsel of food he can get his hands on. I mean, you eat a lot, but Dean… a bottomless pit. You've said so yourself on more than one occasion."

"So he likes to eat. Who doesn't?"

"That's what I'm saying, Sammy. It's a natural human instinct. The so-called seven deadly sins are not some abstract, unknown, foreign concept.., it's _life_… it's what you humans do… you partake of life… that's all it is." The demon's voice sounded so earnest, so sincere and rational, as if he were explaining the basic philosophy of some new age thinker. "You deserve that, don't you? Doesn't Dean? Especially after all he's been through."

The words echoed in Sam's head, bouncing against all reason or sense like the ball in a pinball machine. The noise in his head distracting as it poked and prodded him, digging deeper into the fog of his memories. He tried to forget them, shove them down with all the other lies and half-truths this bastard was spewing, but the images of fleeting moments when Dean looked so sad, so devastated, and Sam never knew why ate at him like a cancer, prickling his mind and making him doubt his own recollections of his childhood.

He was certain none of this happened… they always had food to eat. Dad was preoccupied, but he wasn't abusive. He took care of them… and when he couldn't because of a hunt or injury then Dean took care of things… _Oh god, no! No… it never happened… not like that… it's all lies… Please, God, let it be lies. _His hands were shaking as he gripped his knees. He needed to know… he needed to hear. Only then would he be able to tell for sure… _only then_.

"What you said about Dean, what did you mean? What did he have to _do _to feed me?"

Leviathan smiled, _it's so easy… so very easy…_ "Dean always was too pretty for his own good. Even your dad said so.., once he found out."

Sam swallowed, his mouth dry like sandpaper and his gut clenched so tight he could feel it twisting inside out. He summoned all his courage and asked the question he never wanted to hear the answer to, "Found out?" Silence greeted him and he couldn't stand it, anything was better than the dead empty space where his mind had nothing to occupy its time except for visions of things he never wanted to see.., could never before even imagine. His voice rose in insistent anger, "Found out WHAT?"

Leviathan calmly sat staring at Sam, waiting until the boy was practically unhinged before gently whispering, so low Sam had to lean in to hear the words, had to strain to understand the pictures that came to life in his head. "Yes, Sammy, it did happen. Your brother sold his body for sixty bucks to buy you food. Cheap really, but he wasn't really in the trade and didn't know the going rate. He could have gotten much more in the right market… virgin boy and all… so sweet and innocent… so pretty. At thirteen he looked like a fine porcelain doll, soft and pure, untouched and so desirable… even then Dean was so _very_ desirable. So Dean did what he had to do to bring home the bacon." The demon grinned, laughed and snorted like the sick pig he was. "You can't fault him for that, now, can you? He had to take care of his little brother, didn't he?"

Tears were burning in Sam's eyes. _It's a lie… it's a lie… it has to be a lie. _But God help him, he wasn't sure. Dean was always so willing to do anything for his family… for _Sammy._ In his heart he knew if his brother was forced to make a choice, there would be no choice. He knew Dean would have done anything for him. If circumstances demanded it… if Dean had no other option… backed into a corner… scared and alone… just a child… he would have done it… Sam was sure of that. And that thought hurt Sam as much as the fear that he might have actually done it. But Dad wouldn't have let it get to that point. Dad might have been a bastard on occasion, but he never would have let Dean descend to that low. _It never happened… it's a lie. It has to be. Please, God, let it be a lie._

Sam repeated that mantra over and over in his head, trying to convince his broken heart. He remembered more glimpses of Dean looking so scared before he'd notice his kid brother's gaze and slap on a happy face. Sam never saw the patterns before, never believed what he didn't want to see. But Dean wasn't always in control, there were moments that whipped by so fast little Sammy never registered the meanings but now, looking back he could see more clearly. All the pain… all the sacrifice… all the torment Dean went through with no one to shield him. No big brother like Sam had, no protector other than a dad who loved them, but was missing in action for most of their youth.

Sam was physically shaking. How could Dean deal with all that? With all the responsibility and worry over Dad? And he knew he worried over Dad _and Sammy_. Worried and took on the responsibility of protecting them… of _taking care_ of them… doing whatever needed to be done to accomplish that. Sam never worried because he had Dean and Dean made everything all right. _Damn it all! _

"So, Sammy, you want to hear the sordid details? How that disgusting sexual pervert laid his filthy hands all over your brother's body, teasing and caressing him, making him writhe beneath him? How Dean squirmed and cried out with these muffled, terror-filled whimpers, begging him to stop when the pain became unbearable? How his body betrayed him and actually came from the stimulation? And after it was all over, how he was filled with shame and doubt about himself? How he loathed himself for being weak and dirty? How he still looks back and knows that he's a slut and unworthy? That he _deserved_ what happened to him… that he was _asking_ for it."

Tears were streaming down Sam's face, his spirit shattered by the lost innocence of his brother, the agony piercing every memory he had of their childhood and inflicting new meanings upon them. All the sacrifices clear and right in his face, undeniable, but this… _this never happened… it couldn't._ _Please God, no!_

Leviathan smiled that victorious grin, his heart soaring with the grief filling the room and he couldn't resist twisting the knife just a tad more. His voice was sharp and cutting like shards of glass grating under heavy boots, gouging into the blood and guts of the human and bringing forth such delicious pain. He offered one last comment, delighting in the smell of defeat, "Your brother sacrificed it all for you and he hates you for it. He detests that you made him into a cheap whore. He hates you and he hates himself."

The words swept over Sam and he shuddered, his tense body finally finding the release he so desperately needed as he let out the breath he'd been holding. He silently offered God his heartfelt thanks as the roiling of his stomach eased. The emotional toll from all the doubts and worries had drained his energy, but what little strength he could muster drew his shoulders back and he stood tall. _It was all lies._

Sam took a moment to just breathe, concentrating on the effort, a deep breath in and a ragged breath out, finding a tentative calm within the maelstrom he'd been thrust. It _was_ a lie. He knew with certainty now. Dean might have done those things if left with no other option, but he _hadn't_ because this worthless piece of trash had gone too far in his tale… Dean would never have resented Sam for this. _Never._ Dean could never hate his brother… Sam was sure of that. It was the only truth he had to hold onto now… the irrefutable fact that his brother loved him more than _anything_, more than his own virtue, more than his own wants and needs… more than his very life and soul. He walked over to the demon and threw a cauldron of holy water over his head, watching with satisfaction as the bloodcurdling scream reached the rafters.

With trembling hands Sam wiped the moisture from his tear-stained face and tried to regain his composure. His very essence quaked with the realization that Dean's childhood held terrors Sam had never before acknowledged. This might have been a lie, but there was still truth weaved within the silent pain and pressure Dean endured as the one responsible for holding his family together. A burden that should never have been placed on one so young. Sam finally found his center as the screaming in his head silenced. He turned and called forth all his strength before he calmly admonished the demon, his anger barely controlled, simmering just beneath the surface, his words tense and threatening, "Next time, a little restraint might get you somewhere."

Leviathan smirked, nodding his head slowly up and down in recognition. "It was the hating you part, right? Damn it! I knew that was pressing my luck, but what can I say?" He laughed as he talked, "I'm a sucker for the big finale. Good for you… you _do_ know your brother."

"Yeah, I do. I think this little discussion is over." Sam took out the leather bound book and started to read the Latin phrases that would send this bastard back to Hell.

The demon twitched and the chair he was sitting in skidded across the floor from the powerful effects of the exorcism. "WAIT."

Sam stopped to observe the panicked expression on the demon's face. He was enjoying the last gasp of this evil son-of-a-bitch; payback was sweet and so richly deserved. This bastard had earned all the pain he could bring down upon him for telling those malicious lies about Dean. He turned his attention to the demon and offered up a scowl, "Why? You're a lying bastard. I'm not listening to any more of your sick lies. Sayonara."

TBC

Next chapter Wrath.


	3. Wrath

"_But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!" _- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Chapter Three – Wrath

"Sam? Bobby has us picking up some supplies we're gonna need." Dean's voice was breathless as if he'd just run a marathon, but Sam knew it was fear that was stripping the energy from his brother's lungs. He continued on, his voice edged with a deep-seated wariness, "You alright, Sammy? Did you send that bastard packing?"

Sam blinked back tears as the words on the page drifted in and out of focus before he sighed a hopeless, defeated little gasp and closed the Latin book with the exorcism he had been reading, resting the leather volume on the top of the stool beside him. He scrunched his eyes closed in concentration and worry before drawing his hand across his face to wipe away the last remnants of his tears. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the demon intently watching him, a slight smile emerging on the bastard's confident face. "Not yet, he's still out."

"You're kidding? No way!"

Sam continued to stare at the demon, his eyes a silent challenge warning against any wrong moves. "What can I say? You should go for the heavyweight championship."

"Yeah, right." Dean paused, his voice sounding more distant than could be explained by the poor cell phone reception. Somehow Dean always found it easier to communicate when he didn't have to face his brother. When his brother's pleading, puppy dog eyes weren't piercing his resolve and when he, himself, could hide behind the distance and let his protective façade drop, if just for a moment. "Sammy, be careful and as soon as he wakes up you waste him, you hear me? You can't trust a thing he says… you _know_ that, right?"

Dean's voice sounded hesitant… _anxious_ and Sam recognized the terror laced through it. "Yeah, Dean." Sam worried his bottom lip, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy and the pain of all the lies still coursing through his system. He hated lying to his brother. He detested being a party to all the deception engulfing him, but he saw no other option. The demon sat silently observing him, probably conspiring against him, but he didn't care… not now. He had one pressing thought that consumed him, that stood poised on the precipice waiting to push him into the vast beyond. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"When we were kids, did Dad ever leave us alone and… " Sam was the one now hesitant… the notions the demon placed in his mind pushing him to consider thoughts previously beyond comprehension… scores past the parameters of reason. He never would have believed he could even think to ask such a question and here he was… facing the unimaginable, but a part of him knew there was a grain of truth hidden within all the hurtful lies. Extracting it would be the trick… the impossible quest. Dean was always so defensive of how Dad raised them, never allowing any challenge to diminish Dad's godlike status… always the dutiful son and brother protecting the image of Dad and the innocence of little Sammy. Sam knew Dean would never willingly surrender the truth, not without the ammunition to force the issue.

_Besides, how in the hell do you ask a question like that? Hey, Dean, by the way… did you ever sell your body for food or shelter or what-the-hell-other need you deemed necessary? Damn it all… he __did__ just sell his soul… What else has he done? If circumstance demanded it, what __wouldn't__ he have done? Christ, Dean!_

Dean was suddenly on edge again, confused and concerned by the questioning of his brother, unsure what exactly he was driving at but in all honesty not wanting to know, wanting to leave that knowledge buried deep with all the other pains and regrets of his life. His nerves were razor sharp, pulled taut and ready to snap, and he responded accordingly, "WHAT?"

"Did we ever like run out of food or was Dad ever gone longer than he expected and… "

"What are you asking me, Sammy? NO! Dad always took care of us… you _know_ that."

"Really? 'Cause I seem to remember a few times when I got a little hungry and I just thought maybe something happened. You know… something he couldn't anticipate… something _unexpected_. That NEVER happened?"

The tension crackled through the line, both brothers poised for a confrontation that neither wanted but was inevitable with Sam's relentless probing. "Yeah, maybe once or twice, but I always took care of it, didn't I? Sammy, where's this coming from?" Dean's voice quickly rose as a disturbing thought entered his mind. "He's awake, isn't he? What the hell has he been telling you?"

Sam closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the demon gloating before him. "Nothing…, I _told_ you…, he's still out," Sam replied, falling willingly into the deception that was permeating the room.

"Sam, don't lie to me. He's getting to you, isn't he? Goddammit, Sammy, _please_ don't do this." Dean's voice sounded so broken, so raw, so very desperate, but also angry… _really_ angry and Dean only got angry when his family was threatened and that thought made Sam more determined than ever to stay the course. Dean was afraid and angry… a lethal combination making it clear this demon did know something, something Dean wanted to remain buried.

"Do _what_, Dean?" Sam closed his eyes willing the thoughts and images away, but the more Dean protested the more vivid they became in his head, taunting him and demanding to be heard.

"Play his sick, twisted game. You exorcise him. YOU HEAR ME?"

Sam clenched the phone tight in his hand. He wanted to know the truth… he did.., but the terror in Dean's voice made him cringe at what may have happened in the past… only making him more fearful of where the truth might lead him. The power the truth held over them made him fear it more than he ever thought possible considering all the evil they faced down every day of their lives. Whatever the truth was, it could destroy them either way, left to fester in the dark developing into a toxic sore, or brought to light and engulfing them in a firestorm.

Their only hope of survival was to face it together as brothers. To do that he needed Dean to let him into the past that was veiled behind the cloak of secrecy Dean clung to; he needed to look deep into his brother's eyes to uncover the truth locked away far beyond his reach. Dean never could hide if he really took him to task.

All things considered, that damn demon had a hell of a lot to be thankful for as Dean's phone call provided him with the Governor's reprieve. With his momentum interrupted Sam had a few tenuous moments to reconsider his next move. He knew Dean would be royally pissed-off to know he was the one to halt the exorcism and drive his brother back down that wrong path again… but the dread in Dean's voice only fueled the flames of the inferno waiting to consume them. The blaze was mesmerizing and Sam couldn't turn away, the crackling heat and the dance of the flames calling to him, beckoning him onward to whatever end the truth might bring. _Sorry, Dean, but that's life… you won't talk so I guess I have to listen to whoever will._

Dean broke through with more urgent words, one final, desperate plea to his wayward brother. "Sammy, Bobby's calling me… I gotta go. Sam, you do it. You send him back to Hell, you hear me?"

"Sure thing, Dean.., as soon as he wakes up," Sam replied as his hand ghosted across the closed cover of the Latin book.

"I mean it, Sam. Sammy… I gotta go. We'll be back soon."

"Alright, Dean." He flipped closed his phone and slowly raised his eyes to focus on the demon, dark eyes staring back at him with salacious glee, a sly grin spreading across evil's lips as he savored his victory.

Sam shoved the phone in his back pocket and took a deep breath. Suddenly he shuddered and gasped as the breath flew from his lungs, a flash of memory assaulting him, pulled from the depths as images of Dean's childhood devastation took command of his thoughts and made his gut wrench. It was winter and Dad had been gone a long time and the questions had become a daily exchange… _When is Dad coming home? What's taking so long? Wasn't he due back? Dean…, what's wrong?_

_Dean would sit curled up in a ball staring out the window every night searching… for what, Sammy didn't know… Hope? Rescue? Dad? Sam had a nasty cold, the fever had finally broke, but he was still weak and Dean had been nursing him on bedrest for three days. _

The memories were scattered and so hard to grasp hold of, just bits and pieces floating like ash in the wind… feelings were all that remained in the cinders, seared into his core and hot to the touch, with the overwhelming sense being fear and despair…_ hopelessness. Something was wrong… because Dean wasn't acting like Dean… _

_Dean was acting scared and he looked so sad. _

_There was a vague sound… hushed.., off in the distance.., buried under years of neglect. An unfamiliar sound, muffled and hitched, breathing uneven and ragged, followed by quiet sobbing, barely recognizable and perhaps never registering before, but definite now in his memory, and then the jarring sound of heavy banging on the motel door. _

_A burst of cold air filled the room and he shivered as Dean opened the door and the late afternoon light was blackened by the form of someone huge, Dean's young frame dwarfed by the presence, a voice deep and rough…_

"_Dean, is that Dad?"_

"_Shhhh, Sammy. It's alright. Close your eyes and go back to sleep."_

_Gentle fingers threading through his long hair, caressing with a soft touch… Dean's mellow voice soothing… "Sammy, here, drink some water and take your pills. That's it. Love you, Sammy… go to sleep…" Soft whispers.., fluttery touches… tender strokes… so relaxing… "everything's alright… go to sleep, little brother." Wisps of feather light touches ghosting across his cheekbone, a tender kiss to the forehead as his bangs were brushed back off his face, lulling him back to slumber, making him feel warm and protected and safe. _

_Then Dean was holding onto him, his arm tightly pressed across his chest like he thought he was going to lose him… his chin resting on his shoulder and Sam felt a raindrop fall against his cheek. The edge of the bed rising as Dean stood…_

"_I'll be back in a heartbeat, Sammy, you sleep… I'll be right back."_

_The motel door again opening and then clicking closed and Sam was alone but unafraid… Dean was taking care of things… Dean was near… everything was all right… no worries… just sleep… _

"You always were the innocent one, weren't you, Sammy?"

Sam looked up, startled back to the present. His eyes were filled with unshed tears making his vision as blurry as his mind. He couldn't focus on what the demon was saying… his mind stuffed with memories, pieces of the puzzle and he wasn't sure what they meant. His gut tightened and he felt himself falling into fractures of fear… his mind flitting about trying to fill in the holes, but all that accomplished was to drive him deeper to despair. The missing pieces held too much terror, their truth demanding to be told. Sam now terrified of what that truth might be.

He forced himself to focus on the present and the possible answers this demon might provide. Leviathan was steadily watching him, confident and sure, beaming with the smug satisfaction in knowing the exorcism wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. _I've got you now, Winchester. _

"Dean lost his innocence a long time ago.., didn't he? But then I guess that's what big brothers do… they sacrifice to keep their little brothers safe, protected, sheltered… You know the truth now, don't you, Sammy? _You remember_."

Sam choked as his heart lodged in his throat, his eyes again pools of moisture while his head screamed out that this was wrong… so very wrong… he was mistaken… it _didn't_ happen… he'd proven that… _it's just my imagination… I'm making something out of nothing… he's making me think these thoughts… it's what demons do… but if it's nothing, then why is Dean so scared?_

The demon sat patiently waiting, a knowing glint in his eye as Sam turned back towards his doom.

A small, soft, almost pleading voice whispered and Sam hated being so needy, so desperate, but the fact was he _was_… he was slowly, but surely, falling apart. "What do I remember? What do you know? _Really_ know? Time's running out, Dean will be back soon… _tell me_." _Please tell me something I want to hear. Something to help me know Dean… to help Dean. Please… _

"Oh, Sammy, I knew you'd come around. You _do_ want the truth, don't you? It's what you _need_."

Sam stopped and listened to the glee in the demon's voice, his mind registering the confident cast of his eyes and he felt sick to his stomach all over again. This demon was playing him and winning…

He turned and walked away. Muttering under his breath he ran his hand down his face in pure exasperation… he _needed_ to regain control. He couldn't fall apart now… _not now_. He was John Winchester's son… and he was Dean Winchester's brother… they were hunters… _warriors_… They were the toughest men he'd ever known and he was cut from the same cloth; he was a Winchester and he wasn't going to fall for this demon's mind games. He could do this. He'd faced much worse. He could be as tough as the job demanded.

Sam fell back into the rhythm of his defiance, the less fear he showed the more control he could wield over this demon, and he at least knew that much with certainty… that he damn well better not show fear. He walked back to the demon, his voice harsh and brutal, "The truth, huh? And what's THAT?"

"Dean will never willingly tell you his secrets. You're going to have to pry them out of him with a crowbar. He's like a pit bull gnawing on a thick, juicy steak; his jaws locked tight refusing to give it up." Leviathan chuckled, "You could lose a few fingers trying to wrestle that sucker free… you _know_ how Dean is with his food."

Sam pulled his lips tight in a grimace as his eyes again fixed in determination. The pain of the situation inflicting a heavy toll on him, playing out in the worry etched across his face as the anger boiled just beneath the surface: anger at all the lies and deceit, at the threat of the unbearable truth, and towards himself for not being able to step away from this train wreck. Anger was easier to face than the unbearable fear. "Time's a 'wasting. You got something to say… SAY IT."

"Now, now.., _easy,_ boy. You're teetering on the edge there, Sammy… I can see the hatred and anger trying to break free, just waiting to erupt. Just release your inhibitions… surrender to the wrath." His voice deepened two octaves as he continued on, "_Give in to the darkside,_ _Luke… it is your destiny_." Leviathan laughed, deeply amused with himself and his little game. He sat watching the human, enjoying the moment to savor the coming anguish. "You know how good that would feel, now don't you, Sammy? To just let it out?" The demon studied the younger Winchester, observing the cracks expanding, the tasty insides almost reaching the outside… _almost_. His voice began to taunt, jockeying for a reaction from the young man. "Shall we get physical? You want to slap me around, Sammy? How about you beat me up if you don't hear what you want to hear? You always did have a nasty temper. Even as a child.., you used to hold your breath until you turned blue, demanding what you wanted… when you wanted it. A regular little snot."

Sam laughed at the absurdity of that lie. He knew that wasn't true, he'd never heard it before and surely someone would have told him. "Don't you ever get tired of lying?"

"Oh, right… _Dean's_ the belligerent one… _I_ _forgot_." Leviathan smiled, just a slight, thin-lipped, tight grimace… observing the man before him, making him wait, making him ponder where the conversation was going and whether he would survive the journey… whether his love and memories of his big-brother protector could withstand the bitter truth. "Yeah, that _is_ how it was. Right, Sammy? It was always _Dean _fighting with Dad, demanding what he wanted… causing unrest in the family… "

"Alright," Sam exploded with fury, "so there was friction. What teenager doesn't argue with their dad?"

The demon quirked his head and his black eyes blinked closed and he nodded before a knowing glint took over his eyes as the black receded and he blurted out the only pure truth he had uttered during their entire perverted conversation, "Dean."

"What?" Sam's voice was small and soft and almost non-existent, like he couldn't bear to acknowledge that truth, teetering again between righteous indignation and abject fear.

"You heard me and you know what I'm saying… the _truth_. The only teenager we know who never argued with his dad would be Dean. Probably the only teenager on the fucking planet. _Your_ Dean… the _belligerent _one."

Sam stood stock still and absorbed the plain, unbiased truth, harsh as it was. _Dean… Dean never did argue with Dad, that __was__ true. He never refused an order, request or even the vague hint of what was expected… It was almost like he anticipated whatever John or Sam might desire and willingly provided it… No need to even ask… if it was within Dean's power to provide then it was a done deal, regardless of the cost or personal sacrifice. _Sam sighed and leaned back against the wooden stool, his hand massaging down his face as the realization sunk in, the truth battering its way home.

Leviathan sucked in the expected reaction. It was hardly dessert, but it would do as an appetizer. "Quite amazing, really. How much of himself do you think he surrendered over the years? He offered his family the ultimate sacrifice, _himself…_ and exactly _how_ was he rewarded?" The demon deliberately paused, waiting out the young man, quietly twisting the knife another half-turn. "Oh yeah, right… by backing the two of you he won the damn Lotto: he got a front row seat to Friday Night Smackdown." Leviathan took a minute to relish the anguish consuming little Sammy's face… he sucked in the grief filling the room… you _do_ need to stop and savor the pain whenever you get the opportunity, it is _always_ more delectable when it's fresh, when it first hits the air as it breaks through to the surface. He continued twisting the knife, hoping the blood and guts would soon follow. "Except the fights weren't relegated to Friday nights now, were they? More like seven days a week and twice on Sunday. It truly is a miracle Dean never developed an ulcer… all the pain the two of you brought down on his family… on _him_… You and Dad, two of a kind… bickering, sparring, pushing and shoving and tearing Dean apart… How do you think that made him feel? Watching the two most important people in his life… actually the _only_ people in his life… going at it like a couple of mad dogs? Ripping each other to shreds. Two alpha dogs fighting for the bone."

"It wasn't always like that," Sam meekly offered, hating how pathetic he sounded, but the kick in the gut and the turn of the knife had rendered him spent.

"Oh, really? I think you better clean the cobwebs out of the attic, Sparky. It _was_ _always_ like that. You and Dad going at it, and Dean trying to maintain what little peace he could. What did that make _him_? Your lap dog? Look at him, Sammy… one would think he'd have a little macho, alpha dog in him… what happened to that? How much did it take for him to deny his own identity to serve you? And yet, he never complained, did he? No wonder the boy's twisted inside.., a powder keg ready to explode. Killing all that evil out there… at least it gave him a release for all the anger stifling him. Choking him to death with the forced meekness his family demanded of him. You and Dad, I swear… what a pair. You're the ones who stripped him of who he is… made him into a shell of a man, castrated and impotent… a child trapped in a man's body, unable to face the world unless he's killing something." Leviathan stopped and grinned lasciviously, an arousing picture forming in his mind. "Hunting and killing are the only things that make him feel like a man again; except of course for the fucking, but we've already covered that, right?"

A switch flipped in Sam's head and all his fury rose to the surface, not in anger designed to kill or maim, but in loyalty and respect for his amazing brother. "Shut the hell up, you lying bastard. You have no clue who Dean is. He's not weak or meek, he's _strong_… strong enough to not have to be in charge… strong enough to do what needs to be done regardless of his own desires. Dean is noble… more true and courageous than anyone I know. He sacrifices out of love… _love _and he does it without regard for personal gain. He takes on responsibility, he commits to _saving_ people because he can… because maybe he's the only one who _can_ save them and he does it without any thought for glory or reward. He is a true hero."

Sam was wasted, his emotions churning and his mind swamped with the memories of all the people his brother had saved, more people than could ever be counted. People who would live full, productive lives and every great accomplishment any one of them or their future children gave the world would all come back to Dean… would all be because Dean was there to save them. Dean was the pebble skipping across the pond and each save echoed out creating a ripple of goodwill. Dean was personally responsible for more goodness and light in the world than most Noble Peace Prize winners… he was simply the unspoken hero who would never be on the evening news or the covers of Time and Newsweek, but his worth to the world was beyond measure.

Sam blinked back tears because the one true tragedy in that truth was that Dean couldn't see it. Dean never acknowledged his own worth, always bestowing more value on his dad or brother or every random stranger he ever saved. That was the one agonizing truth that ate at Sam as the demon continued his assault.

"Yes, of course, _a hero_… so very true. Your brother _is_ noble. Quite the amazing young man… but that only makes it more unfortunate, don't you think?"

Sam was shaking his head and staring up at the ceiling, he knew not to listen to this sonofabitch… he KNEW! But a piece of him was still searching out answers, still seeking out the whole picture. There were bits and pieces coming together, but so much was still missing. He looked down at the leather volume and he wished he could pick it up, thumb to the correct page and start reading… he truly wanted to be rid of this evil… he _did,_ but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe a part of him felt he deserved to suffer the demon's harsh words for all the slights he'd inflicted on his brother over the years, either unknowingly or as brotherly teasing that never realized the depth of the hurts. All he had now to hold onto was the hope that this would all be worth it in the end… that the puzzle of Dean Winchester would finally be revealed and he could at last witness the compete truth of the man.

"He _is_ amazing," Sam reaffirmed, finding comfort in saying the words, hoping one day that truth could fan out across the globe and be heard by the masses, but before that could ever happened he had to get the rest of his answers. The last part of the demon's words hung on like a lead weight ready to drop. "But what's unfortunate? What do you see?" Sam continued down the path, hesitant and scared, but he'd started this nightmare. He'd allowed it to progress this far and he was loathe to stop it now before they got to the finish.

Leviathan slowly grinned; it always played out like this… humans were so weak, so needy… so willing to surrender to the darkness in the hopes their dreams would come true. Desperately believing the truth could set them free… not knowing that shadows never allow full daylight… that life is played out in the grey areas and it is the fool's folly to think they would ever win out against _him_. He was _Envy_, after all. It was his job to twist desires and push the humans along the cattle pens headed off to slaughter. Like cows plodding to their doom, humans couldn't see the big picture, just the ass of the cow in front of them as they shuffled off to the meat counter. He straightened up against the hard back of the wooden chair and continued his little game.

"Sammy, do you _really_ want to know the truth?" Another earnest look descended on his face, his tone soft and comforting as if he really did give a rat's ass about Sam's feelings. "It may not be what you expect, you know?"

"Yes, _I know_… tell me." Sam's guts flip-flopped and he calmed his heart to still the wild beating… _steady as she goes_… _not much longer_…_ you can do this… for Dean._

Leviathan smiled, observing the young man before him… _not much longer… almost there… my, my, this has been so much delicious fun! _"The truth is Sammy, you've always been selfish… _using_ your brother, knowing he would give you anything you desired, never denying you… always denying himself. It got to be quite the pattern, didn't it? Between you and Dad, I swear.., it certainly is true… no one can hurt you like the ones you love, right, Sammy boy? And in the end, what do we have? What did Dean get out of the deal?" He smiled and laughed, low, almost purring with satisfaction. "Well, besides Hell in a year? Dean got used up, wrung dry, and eventually cast off like the worthless piece of trash he is. No wonder he has abandonment issues… You left him, Dad deserted him… if not for the women he would have never found any relief from the agony his family put him through."

"He _wanted_ to provide for his family. It was his choice. You couldn't possibly understand, but he does what he does out of love and commitment."

"Right! And his family so richly rewarded him for his devotion? Like when you dumped him? After all he sacrificed, you just up and left him. Left him and Dad to continue the battles alone. That is until Dad ditched him too."

"I was going to school. That's hardly dumping him. I even asked him to come with me."

"Yeah, like that was going to happen? What? You needed a chauffeur? A personal assistant? How about a gofer to fetch your smoothies? Why would you think he'd want to tag along to a world he didn't belong in? So he could feel even more inadequate? Hunting is the only time he feels competent… the only thing he's good at… the only job he's ever had or gonna have, and you trashed him for his dedication. Calling him Dad's little drone… Dad's mindless soldier. How arrogant can you be?"

"ALRIGHT! I was unfair… I've apologized to Dean… I told him I never understood and he doesn't blame me… he's bigger than that… he never blames anyone for being less…" Sam was exploding with his own justifications for his past behavior. The words of the demon nipping alongside the truth and bringing up painful memories… times he would just as soon forget.

"But he did finally call you on your selfishness, didn't he? You've always been selfish, that's just what you were… _are_… aren't you, Sammy boy? The spoiled little brother. But Dean finally fought back, didn't he? Back in Burkitsville? Finally told you off.., how many _years _after the fact? Can't say he isn't patient."

Sam squirmed and blinked back more tears as the memories came flooding back, overwhelmed by the terror, especially the part where he almost lost his brother to that damn scarecrow. How his selfish actions left Dean vulnerable and alone. How Dean never would have left him and gone off on the hunt by himself if he hadn't pushed him to it with his blind determination to go after what he wanted yet again. _Damn, it all._

"That's in the past. We're together now and we're going to hunt down and kill all you evil sons-of-bitches."

"Yes, I know, the Winchester boys _together again_… Dean forgives you, Dean forgets.., Dean bends over backwards and takes whatever you dish out." The demon smiled a sick, twisted smirk, "Maybe he should be bending over the other way, huh, Sammy? Would you like that? Dominate him completely? Make him your bitch?"

Sam exploded with anger, tossing the holy water across the demon's chest and face and smiling as the hiss of the steam rose up. The venom in his voice was lethal, "You sick bastard." He stood watching the demon writhe, each subsequent dosing of holy water creating a more potent reaction. As the effects waned the demon opened his coal black eyes, the familiar smirk still in place.

"Oh, Sammy, you're almost there. Your wrath becomes you."

TBC

Next chapter Pride

_I know this demon is getting nastier than I ever thought I would write, but I can assure you, the brothers will have their moments of victory and resolution. Love and family will win out in the end… _

_I'm struggling with the next chapters; I don't like being immersed in all this darkness… I'd really rather be writing a humor fic. I'll keep at it and hopefully the updates won't be too drawn out. Thanks for reading, B.J._


	4. Pride

"_But some emotions don't make a lot of noise. It's hard to hear pride. Caring is real faint - like a heartbeat. And pure love - why, some days it's so quiet, you don't even know it's there." _- Unknown

Chapter Four – Pride

The room was still. Thankfully, the demon had exhausted his rant and was again quiet; the only sound now the frantic beating of Sam's heart pounding in his ears. He sat on the floor, back pressed firm against the wall, long legs pulled up with his arms wrapped around them like a kid trying to make himself small again; every beat of his heart a loud thump against his ribs. He buried his face in his knees, his chest heaving from all the pain… the unbearable reality beating him down.

The bitter truth swirled about him: his undeniable selfishness, Dean's unwavering love, the hopelessness their lives had descended into. He tried to hold on to the love; but it was so faint, whispering just beyond reach, drowned out by all the hate and nastiness of this demon. He wanted his brother back beside him, always and forever. He'd never meant to hurt Dean. He would _never_ hurt Dean, not on purpose; but that didn't matter when the facts were clear. He _had_ hurt Dean, on too many occasions, in too many ways, much deeper and harsher than he ever before realized and his heart trembled from the pain of all his regrets. He was sorry… so very sorry. He only wanted to fix things, make up for past slights, right all his foolish mistakes, but time was too short and no answers were apparent… hope was slipping from his grasp as desperation coiled deep in his gut, ready to rip through him and burst out into the open air exposing all his failings.

The weight of all the lies and deceit and pure hatred was bending him, threatening to snap him in two. He wanted this demon gone, vanished off the planet, back in Hell where he belonged. Dean would take care of it. Dean would exorcise him with a fine send-off, a swift boot to the ass and he'd be history, taking all his lies and pain with him. Then Dean would make it alright… just like he always did. But Dean wouldn't always be here, wouldn't be walking this earth for much longer at all now. One year would slip by in a heartbeat.

Sam shuddered. He was such a baby, such a fucking lightweight. Here he was again waiting for Dean to fix things… putting the responsibility back on big brother. That's what got them in this mess in the first place, Dean thinking he was responsible for his kid brother… believing Sam's life held more value than his own. Feeling it was his _job_ to sacrifice everything for his brother, and Sam always let him. He tried to rationalize; remember he never asked for this, but he'd never refused it either.

Every time Dean gave up a piece of himself for little Sammy, Sam took it. Even after he was full grown, even when he _did_ argue it wasn't fair, even when he went through the motions saying he was an adult and Dean _wasn't _his keeper… he still accepted it, never denying his brother's gifts until now. And now he didn't know how to change things… how to fix this crossroads deal. He told Dean, as he tried to tell himself, that he was going to save him.., _Guess I've gotta save your ass for a change_… but as time passed and all leads petered out, his heart seized in terror. Maybe it _was_ too late. Maybe he had wrung the last drop of selflessness from his brother. Maybe there was nothing left to give, nothing left to take, nothing left to save.

He was so tired and he felt so cold and alone, and he wondered if this is how Dean felt when he left him to go to school… He gasped, his heart tight in his chest… his anxiety rising ever higher and he found it difficult to breathe, his mind reeling… is _this_ how Dean felt when he _died?_

His mind worried over errant decisions that he wished he could take back: allowing Jake to live by not taking him out when he had the chance, turning his back like a fucking idiot and letting Jake kill him… _kill Dean_… His eyes watered at the ramifications, years of hunting and killing and it wasn't an entity too powerful or cunning that sealed their fate. It wasn't a demon or vampire or werewolf or any number of other worthy adversaries; _no_.., it was mercy that called forth the reaper.

And on top of all the guilt and pain and grief consuming him, the past was now haunting him. The past and present converging in one massive conspiracy to destroy him; memories crowding in, trying to grab a fistful of his emotions and wring him dry. He couldn't stop his mind from digging deeper now, trying to come up with what really happened all those years ago; the elusive truth tunneling out from the depths, rising up from the embers to taunt him. _Dad was angry, more angry than normal and… scared? _It was his first conscious memory of Dad ever being scared. Combined with Dean acting so scared, it was _too much_… too much for little Sammy to handle and he'd buried that night… buried it deep. Pulled the covers up over his consciousness and retreated into the safety of childhood where monsters didn't really exist and Dean was always there to protect him.

It was one thing for Sam to feel scared, he was a kid, the baby of the family, but Dad and Dean? They were larger than life… invincible… immovable… They were his protective barrier, rising up like the Great Wall of China to surround him and keep him safe, holding all the nasty monsters at bay and letting him remain a child for just a while longer. If they were scared then life just got a whole lot worse. All those years ago little Sammy was more scared than he could ever remember being… that is until he faced Dean's crossroads deal almost two decades later.

"_Sammy, wake up. Where's your brother? Where's Dean?"_

"_Huh? Dad, you're back? Dean went out…"_

"_When, Sammy?"_

"_I dunno."_

"_Where'd he go, Sammy? WHERE?"_

_Tension heavy in the air… muttered curses… slamming door… silence… so dark and quiet…_

_Panic in the stillness… black and bitter cold… shivering under heavy blankets… alone and so scared… waiting… worrying… time hangs, the LED numbers on the clock taking an eternity to click over to the next minute… sleep tugging at him, so sleepy… have to stay awake… Dean, where are you? Darkness wins out bringing nothing… nothing but slumber…_

_Loud banging… bright lights… rustling movements… water running… Dad shaking him, fierce and desperate._

"_Sammy, here, put you coat on… we're leaving. Hurry up." Dad forcing his arms through his coat._

"_Dad? Where's Dean?"_

"_He's washing up… Come on, Sammy… We gotta go."_

_Dean's back… all's right again… the world still turns… the sun will rise in the morning… everything's alright 'cause Dean's home. _

_Dean's so quiet as they pile into the backseat of the car, snuggled in close, their combined warmth fighting against the cold and snow blowing through the open door before Dad gives it a push and it creaks closed with a heavy thud. Dean's curled into a ball on the seat beside him, trembling arm pressed across Sam's chest pinning him to the back of the seat. Dean's hugging him so tight, chest heaving, heart beating… thump, thump, thump against his side. Dean's face nestled into his shoulder… damp… damn snow…_

_Trembling… then all out shaking… shuddering in waves like cold air breaking across bare skin._

_Sammy petting Dean nice and gentle… small hand stroking through short hair… soft touches, just like big brother always does… "It's alright… Dean, what's wrong? Shhhh, Dean… it's alright."_

_Dad's booming voice from the front seat, "It's alright, boys. It'll be okay."_

_Dean whimpers and tightens his grip… Sam can barely breathe… _

_Dad guns the engine of the Impala, tires squeal as the car peels out of the parking lot kicking up a cloud of white in their wake and Dean tenses… hiccupping, heart beating so fast, fingers digging into Sammy's side… clutching tight… holding on…_

_Gentle hands rubbing small circles, trying to remember Dean's calming touch, how he eases the anxiety… hesitant, unsure… stroking big brother's back, wrapping him up in caring arms… voice tinged with fear, "Shhh, Dean." Tender touches, caressing… Sammy trying to offer support when he was so used to being on the receiving end… trying to mimic Dean's care… trying to soothe. Trying so hard to be what Dean needed, what big brother always was, but not knowing how. Not understanding why. Just being there, being there for Dean. Holding Dean as Dean clung to him._

_The night sky's pitch black, but pristine new fallen snow glistens under the streetlights contrasting with the darkness… Dean looks up for just a second… just a fraction of a second… the white glow of the streetlight flashes across his face reflecting the tears staining his cheeks… he buries his face in Sammy's shoulder again…_

_How could Sam ever forget those eyes? Little boy lost eyes… shattered… defeated… filled with such pain… such unbearable pain…_

_This isn't happening… this can't be happening…_

_Dad's haunted eyes staring back at them in the rearview mirror, eyes shiny with moisture, strong voice breaking unexpectedly, "Dean.., it's alright, son. It'll be alright."_

_Sammy's breath hitches and his gut tightens as Dean sobs…_

_It doesn't feel all right… nothing feels right._

"How's it feel to be the weak link, Sammy?" The demon's cruel voice cut through the memories, pulling him back to the agony of the present.

Ignoring him, Sam sat with his hands covering his face, his breathing stilled to the point that he had to consciously remember to breathe, the weight heavy on his chest. The memories suddenly so vivid and fresh in his mind, but he still didn't know _why? _He curled in on himself, longing for the comfort of false hope, for the innocent days before he knew of all the evil lurking in the world and how it wanted to hurt his family. Wishing he could have spared Dean all the pain, then and now.

"Oh, Sammy… wake up, son. Time to play."

Sam's head jerked up, the demon's low tone for a second echoing Dad's raspy voice. As soon as he eyed the evil bastard his heart burned with hatred. Aside from the yellow-eyed demon, he had never felt such contempt for evil as he did this creature. A sick thought crossed his mind and he wondered if they were somehow related, or if all evil when closely examined was this vile. After Dean killed the yellow-eyed demon, he'd assumed the crushing hatred that consumed him had forever faded, replaced by the satisfaction of realizing their vengeance. All anger and hatred finally laid to rest. He never dreamt he could again be brought to the brink with such revulsion as he felt for this evil.

"So, Sammy, do I have your undivided attention yet?"

"Shut up, creep."

"So, now we're calling names? That's a good one.., _very _inventive," the demon snickered, joy lifting his voice.

"I said SHUT UP, BITCH!"

"Now, _that_ hurt, Sammy… _really_ hurt."

"You'll know hurt when I send you back to Hell."

"_You're_ going to send me to Hell?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam boldly declared, settling his heart, regaining his bearings, and filing his memories away until a later time when he could examine them more closely.

"I beg to differ… you're still waiting for that truth, aren't you, Sammy? Still hoping…, _praying?"_ He laughed, loud and bold. His eyes mere slits as his grin overcame his features. "You _still_ pray, Sammy? You praying for deliverance?" He sat observing the human, delighting in this new topic. "You know God isn't listening…, not to _you_. I mean, you'd have to realize that after all this time with hardly a peep… but hope springs eternal, doesn't it? So.. you.. pray... _for Dean_." His eyes took on a mock look of caring. One might be fooled by the tender gaze if not for the smug smirk turning up his quivering lips. "Now ain't that sweet? It's not going to save him, Sammy. You must know that."

"And why not?" Sam defiantly asked, finding his second wind, refusing to give in to this evil and his taunts.

"Because you don't deserve God's intervention."

Sam offered a slight smile of resignation for his own failings, but his eyes shone for his brother and all his great deeds. "I may not deserve it, but Dean does."

"Dean? Surely, you jest? You best shed those rose-colored glasses, Sammy. I've already shown you what Dean deserves."

"Dean _does_ deserve to be saved. He does." Sam's voice cracked mid-way through his protest. His mind breaking a little more as he pondered the cost of all Dean's sacrifices.

"Why? He doesn't believe in a higher power. You're not dealing with a fraud of a faith healer this time. But _you _believe, don't you, Sammy? You're still hoping God's gonna _do the right thing_? Save poor, poor, pitiful Dean? Why would he? Why _should_ he? Dean's a sinner… he's one of _us_… he _belongs_ in Hell."

"No, he's _nothing_ like you… he's good and noble. He's pure and true."

"Fairytales, Sammy… _delusions_. Look at the facts… kinda hard to dispute 'em. When the books are balanced in that great beyond, the weight of his sins will pull Dean straight down to Hell where he belongs… it's his destiny. He's just going ahead of schedule… but oh, you should see the preparations. He is in for one hell of a party. And the guest list! Anyone who's anyone will be there, the best and the baddest." Leviathan paused to savor the moment, drink in the anguish and anticipate the coming feast. "Yes, indeedy, mighty are the preparations. But I don't think he'll care for his presents, I don't think he'll care for them at all. But then again, the party's not exactly _for_ him… more like _he's_ the party favor. Going to be passed around from demon to demon, each one taking a piece of him… but he's used to that, isn't he? Just like the hell on earth he's lived?" Evil's eyes glinted, taking immense joy from Sam's pain, sucking it in and savoring the bitter tang of defeat in the young hunter's eyes. "Maybe it won't seem all that different… after all, he's been suffering his entire life, dying a little more each day. Practice makes perfect and Dean is _perfection_… "

Sam grimaced and held onto his stomach, the knife gouging into his belly, the fear of what Hell would be like for Dean tearing him apart, ripping and shredding his insides. His worst fears expertly detailed by this evil. His face contorted from the images burnt into his mind, his eyes glossing over with tears. He was speechless… words were useless to deny the truth Dean was facing.

The demon delighted in the pained expression on Sam's face, his little game playing out just like he knew it would. _Humans… so desperately foolish. _He savored the moment, the tender pain tantalizing and causing his mouth to water with desire. _Not long now, Sammy boy… not long at all._

"Everyone thinks Dean is prideful… stuck on himself. You do, don't you, little brother? That manly swagger, that ready smirk… acting like he's God's gift to women, confident and sure; but that couldn't be further from the truth." Leviathan waited for the head to rise and the eyes to gaze upon him with uncertainty, hanging on every word, waiting for the truth as only he could present it. _Hook, line and sinker…_ He eased back on the line steadily reeling in the shattered man. "Oh, he _knows_ he's pretty… Hell, he's been told it enough times. He sees how people react to him, ogling his sculpted body and chiseled face, desiring his lush, full lips flittering between that cocky smirk of his and his sexy pout. Lips made for sin. Strangers lusting after his toned body and virile manhood, wanting to devour his beauty and claim perfection." Leviathan paused and waited for the hitch in Sam's breath, the truth undeniable, the slightest acknowledgment registering in his eyes of how his brother commanded attention. "So he _uses _his looks. He knows that handsome face can get him information, and on good nights, phone numbers and into the beds of all those hot, lusty women, but it's all a lie. He's a fraud, Sammy. That's the biggest alias he ever uses… his looks… that 'Dean Winchester guy' who's hot and sexy and confident and strong… Yeah, that's all a big.. fat.. lie.. He _knows_ what he really is… scared.., lonely.., _desperate_… Just a pathetic, little kid wracked with pain and guilt and fear, _overwhelming_ fear and hate. Pure hate."

"Hate?" The word squeaked out, Sam barely able to utter that one sparse word.

"Duh, Sammy! You certainly can't delude yourself into thinking he loves himself, can you? I mean, get real. He feels the darkness within. Why do you think he _hides_ who he is? He can't bear to face himself, let alone let you see the _real_ him. He HATES who he is, what he's become. He uses that perfect outer shell to do the job, 'cause that's all he has… _the job_. But it's all a façade, a Mardi Gras mask. His looks are just another weapon in his arsenal; a means to get the job done, like his shotgun or his bowie knife. They serve a purpose, nothing more. See, the thing is, he doesn't see what everyone else sees when he looks in the mirror."

Sam stuttered, unwilling and unable to accept these lies, but drawn in regardless. Sucked down into the black hole this demon was digging. He didn't even realize he had spoken until he heard his voice, "What does he see?"

"Fear, pain, _darkness_… but that doesn't last long, the longer he looks the less he sees… it simply fades to black and then he sees what's really there. The truth of who Dean Winchester truly is."

"And what's that?" Sam whispered.

"_Nothing._ Without you or Dad beside him he fucking disappears, just fades right off the face of the planet. You see, Sammy, in his mind he doesn't even exist without his family. He might as well be dead. That's why he made that deal… he couldn't bear the thought of being _nothing_… having no purpose… no _reason _for existing. Just a big, ugly mass sucking up precious air."

Sam couldn't respond, couldn't think… the fear and dread overwhelming. He prayed it wasn't true, but he had yet to see Dean stand up for himself and demand anything as if he truly believed he deserved it. Dean _had _spent his entire life caring for his family, putting their needs first. _Had Dean simply vanished from lack of care? Vaporized away to nothing? Died when the last of his family died?_

"All he is is a big, fat, empty hole waiting to be filled and that's where you come in. You're so prideful you think you're worth all his devotion… all his sacrifice. Oh, you two… you certainly deserve each other. Dean is so willing to give and you're so ready to take. You're a leech sucking the life out of him. This deal of his… hell, it ain't no fucking revelation. Anyone who knows you Winchesters knows it's been coming for twenty-four years now. You slowly siphoning off all his energy, his life's blood. He's given you everything he's ever had and _still _you want for more. Talk about a glutton. You're a parasite, Sammy. And your meal ticket is about to expire."

"You're twisting it. It's not like that. _Dean's_ not like that," Sam's voice tried to protest, tried to tie together a reasonable defense, but his heart wasn't in it. His heart was ripped from his chest, bleeding and broken on the floor.

"So, Sammy, whatcha gonna do in a year's time? Who you gonna leech off of then? Bobby? Ellen? They're not gonna let you. After all, they have their pride. Now Dean, he always felt responsible for you… always felt you deserved everything he never allowed himself to want. Dean never had the balls to stand up on his own two feet and demand anything. First John and then you… he always did put himself at the end of the line. Hell, he puts every innocent he saves before himself and still you put him down. How many snide remarks? How many times have you rolled you eyes and muttered under your breath?"

Sam fell silent, regrets and recriminations claiming his soul.

"To you, Dean is simply a mindless soldier and a horny slut, and you've never treated him as anything more. You couldn't even see how shattered he was every time you slammed him with another put-down. The only time he _ever_ felt a sense of accomplishment was when Dad acknowledged his hunting skills and the random women admired his sexual prowess. Two things Dean was great at and yet his little brother that he surrendered everything for… What did he do for his self-confidence? He put him down for them… " The demon took on a whiny, obnoxious voice, trying to mimic an insensitive, younger brother taunting his sibling, "Oh, Daddy always bosses you around and the women… why they control _little_ _Dean_. _'You mind thinking with your upstairs brain there, Dean?'" _His voice again deep and brutal, cutting Sam to the quick, "How many times, Sammy? How many digs? How many smartass remarks making him feel worthless? Proving to him once and for all that he isn't valued in this family. That he doesn't matter. That he never did."

"I never… "

"Yeah, you did. You trashed him whatever brain he was using. Upstairs brain was devoted to Dad and hunting, and that's just pathetic in your book, and downstairs brain was controlled by lust, which you've always held in such great contempt. Yeah, real supportive there, Sammy. Dean couldn't possibly win with you. So he relinquished himself and focused on the one thing he could do right… take care of Sammy. And he even screwed that up. The one thing he thought he could do right and he let you die. _That's_ what killed him, seeing.. you.. dead.." Leviathan paused to savor the moment, the anguish rich and deep in Sam's eyes, the words battering home the truth, undeniable and inexcusable. His low voice taunting, "See what your mercy cost?"

The demon was so smug, so arrogant and superior that all Sam wanted was to slam his fist into his taunting face, but he couldn't because he felt the harsh reality of this truth, painful as it was. He knew he'd let Dean down, put him down on too many occasions, with too many misspent words, ultimately failing him completely when he let Jake live.

"You shoulda seen him, Sammy; crying, carrying on… screaming to God for taking you away from him… surrendering to the hopelessness… just a broken, shattered shell-of-a-man, finally bereft of anything that made him human and kept him moving forward. At last ready to lie down and die… before his one and only choice presented itself, shining like a fucking beacon, that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Life and a purpose surging back into his vacant form only after putting the pedal to the metal and racing to his own death at the crossroads just to make that deal." Leviathan stopped and observed the broken man before him, savoring his pain. He continued to twist the knife. "Why? So he could have one more year of misery dealing with you and your issues?"

This was the nitty gritty now. The unimaginable moments Sam could barely comprehend… _how it felt to lose a brother_. Sam's mind couldn't fully concentrate on the evil filth this demon was spouting; his mind was on its own journey, trudging down that horror-laden road from whence Dean would never return. He could only imagine the terror Dean had felt, the terrible, numbing loss; remembering all too well how he felt as he stood facing his brother's death sentence in that stark, sterile hospital room as Dean calmly talked about burial or cremation, accepting his own fate far too easily, as Sam railed against the hopelessness. Together they'd won that fight, _barely_.

Mere months later he again faced losing his brother as Dean hovered in a coma, at the brink of death in another hospital room, machines gasping out each mechanized breath as his body lay broken beyond repair, the reaper again stalking him. Dean miraculously breaking free of death's firm grip, rescued by Dad's ultimate sacrifice. Sam had been wracked with terror at the prospect of his brother dying, the impending loss too enormous to face; for Dean to have actually experienced the finality of it, to see his own brother lying dead before his very eyes… Sam felt Dean's pain and for the first time a part of him understood the desperation, but he couldn't forgive the actions… the all too familiar sacrifice. He could never forget that he lived because Dean chose to die in his place. Dean forever choosing family over self.

The demon was merciless, digging deeper and thrusting in with his knife and bare hands, trying to pull the molten emotions from Sam's insides, pushing and pressing, trying to again command the young man's focus. "Your dad's deal… now _that_ was a mercy. He saw Dean return from the dead, said his heartfelt good-byes, and… " the demon snapped his fingers decisively, "he was gone. No muss, no fuss. Now, Dean… well, that's another story, isn't it? What could be worse than a year of waiting? A year of worry and dread? Mulling the future or lack of a future over and over in your head? And it's not just the dying, Sammy, but where he'll be spending eternity. A year of anticipating the other shoe's impending drop? Hell, I bet it feels more like a twelve thousand ton battleship ready to squash him leaving only a bug print on the path of life. That knowledge of what's to come, it's gotta be overwhelming… the sheer panic… the knotting terror deep in your gut… Damn, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." He chuckled and smiled, his eyes alive with passion. "Who am I kidding? Hell, you _know_ I would."

Sam remained silent, the pain and truth and injustice leaving him speechless. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to hold himself together. Desperately searching out the love his family always shared in spite of all their trials, hoping love could triumph over all this pain. Trying to find Dean's strength, to grasp hold of it and hold it close.

The demon was unrelenting, pressing onward with more lies… more truths. Sam was lost within himself, only half hearing what was said, the painful truth already leaving him wasted. "Every morning when Dean opens his eyes and every night when he closes them and every single moment in between it's all he thinks about… his time in Hell and how the hellhounds are coming to drag him down into the pit. His gorgeous face ain't gonna be so pretty once they get their hands on him… but maybe then he won't feel like such a phony? Maybe then his outsides will look like his insides, all messy and gross." He stopped and shook his head in amazement. "Hard to imagine something that looks so GQ perfect could be so fucked up and ugly on the inside, so damaged and broken. Yes, your brother is so very fascinating. Someone ought to do a study on him… but then again, they'd better do it fast… time's a' ticking." His tongue clicked out the tick-tocks in his mouth, his eyes gleeful from the effects of his little game.

Sam looked up in a stark stare, his mind almost disconnecting from the immense pain of these hopeless words. The demon didn't care at this point whether he was paying attention or not, he delighted in spinning his tale, painting his lurid pictures of the Winchesters' failings. He happily continued on, hoping his words would slither their way into the younger man's consciousness, but if not, he knew it was only because Sam had finally reached his breaking point. _Humans are so very weak and vulnerable, no match for my power._

"You want to know the real reason he keeps everyone at a distance?" The demon paused as if he half-expected an answer. Shrugging when none was forthcoming, he proceeded on, "He's finding it harder and harder to maintain the old image, hide who he _really _is… that ugly, nasty, fucked-up mess of a man. That's the real reason he's relieved to be shuffling off the planet. It's so very taxing pretending you're not falling apart, maintaining that perfect façade, appearing strong so little brother won't worry, won't see that you're not really a superhero. Between that and the strain of being little bro's personal security force, it's no wonder he's ready to pack it in. Pretty telling that Hell's preferable to his real life: his fucked up, pathetic, miserable excuse of a life."

This was the moment of no return for Sam. He either stood up now and defended his family or he'd be forever lost, sucked into the gloom and despair of evil's twisted version of their lives. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, facing the ribbon of truth running through this evil's diatribe, but it had to be done and when you're a Winchester you face the unimaginable and you fight. You fight for your family and you fight for right. He sucked in a huge breath and released it, his eyes again focused. His gut still tight and hurting, but he set aside his pain and stepped back into the fray. "You're a sick bastard. All you see is hate. You can't possibly understand love and honor. Dean is so far above you. You're the parasite, feeding off pain and suffering. Twisting everything to serve your purpose. Lying and manipulating the truth. You're the one who's heading back to Hell. You're the one who deserves to burn there. Now, unless you have something I want to hear, I think we're done here."

The demon chuckled at the renewed spirit of his adversary. "You still think you can pull the truth out of me, don't you… down deep where miracles happen?" Leviathan calmly sat, smug in the control he wielded over the situation, delighting in resuming their little war of words, glad to have a worthy opponent back to battle with him.

Sam offered a confident grin, menacing and determined. "If you don't have what I want then I guess you're history. You either pony up the truth or you'll be home for supper."

"But that's the rub, isn't it, Sammy? I _do_ have what you want to hear… I'm just not going to tell you… at least not until _I'm _ready." He licked his lips seductively, his tongue darting out and rolling over the smirking lips before taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, drawing out his own blood to suck back in. "How's that frost your apples?"

"You bastard!"

Evil grinned. "I think we've already established that. You _are_ paying attention!"

Sam shook out his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension knotting them. He moved to where he was towering over the demon, strutting around him exerting his dominance.

"Yeah? And you're the one tied to a chair waiting for that one-way ticket to Hell." He leaned in gloating, "And guess who's going economy class? I think the ride's going to get a little bumpy, might want to fasten your seatbelt."

"Trying to mimic your brother's smart mouth or are you channeling Miss Bette? Try all you want to 'show no fear'. I _know_ what's really going on inside there, Sammy. I can smell the quivering mass trembling down deep in your gut. You don't have the sac to play the cocky hero, that's Dean's shtick. But keep on practicing that bravado; maybe that's one part of your brother you can keep alive… his smartass 'tude. Lord knows, the rest of him is mincemeat. Fodder for the Hounds of Hell."

"You better shut your mouth unless you're telling me what I want to hear. You're NOT running this show, not any longer. _I'm _in charge here. I decide whether you live or die. Now, you got SOMETHING TO SAY or are you ready to go home?"

The demon exploded in vile, angry words. "You arrogant piece of shit. You think _you _can win in a war of words with me? ME? You really think you're better than me? _Humans_… you disgust me," Leviathan sneered. "Even your brother knew not to go up against me… but no, you wouldn't listen… Not little Sammy. Sammy wants what Sammy wants and no one can tell him any different. Pride goeth before the fall, little man… and trust me, it's a long way down.., down to the bottom of the pit…" he sniggered, his smirk twisted and sinister, to match the evil spewing from his mouth, "but so worth the ride. Hell is waiting to welcome you with open arms." He raised up his open palms as much as the rope around his chest would allow and his head lowered in a mock bow, a snide reverence betrayed by the huge grin on his face. "The Boy King comes to rule his minions. Aren't we lucky?"

"What?" Sam gasped.

"That's what they're calling you down south. Funny, really. You've hardly earned that title; now have you, Sammy boy? _The Boy King_… well…" he chuckled, his eyes full of mischief, "it's half right… you are a _boy_… certainly no man. Daddy never let you be a man, did he? Always the baby of the family, protected, coddled… you're pathetic… at least Dean knows when he's out-gunned. Big brother warned you about me, but _you_ wouldn't listen, would you? But then you never did listen. Sammy knows best. Blah, blah, blah… "

"I told you I want to hear about Dean, not your lies about me. I don't care what you think about me."

"TOUGH. Face it, _boy_, I'm gonna tell you what you _need _to hear… not what you want… I'm not Dean, after all. I don't have to wipe your ass. I'm not here to take care of little Sammy, I'm here to tell it like it is. The bold bitter truth you claim you want to hear. You always gave your brother grief about following Dad's orders, falling into line… being the good little soldier. And we know how that made Dean feel. Such a considerate little bro you are. You're always saying how important your big brother is… how he always sacrificed for you and you're right. He did always sacrifice for _you_.., demanding, petulant, little Sammy. Why the hell did he do it? You're certainly not worth it."

"Everything Dean does he does for love, but you couldn't understand that. You have no concept of what love is. You're the one who's twisted, warped."

"Love? Yeah, right… more like abuse. He may have followed Dad's orders, but he let _you_ walk all over him. How many times did he just stand there and take your crap? Arch his eyebrows, flash his dimples in a resigned smile and nod, knowing he deserved the ridicule you spewed at him? He may have broad shoulders, but all that manure you laid on him? It's a wonder he isn't stooped over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame or at least buried to his eyeballs in a bog of shit. Even Hell's better than hanging around here with you… taking care of you… wiping your nose, your snot-filled, runny nose. _Love_… you Winchesters, you really know how to make each other _feel_ the love, don't you?"

The demon didn't wait for Sam to respond. He was on a roll and loved the anguish again creeping onto the young man's face, knowing he was bringing up painful memories, touching on hurtful truths with the smell of defeat again wafting through the air. All it took was the glimmer of truth to dredge up all his simmering anguish. He knew his job. He knew how to draw out whatever pain lay buried in the shadows of half-truths, rip them up to the surface and cast a spotlight on them.

"No wonder he's tired… ready to hang it up… years of being cut-rate, second best, no wait, I guess it'd be third best… made to feel he's unworthy. All he's ever been is your protector, your keeper. Sammy's so smart.., Sammy's so perfect.., Sammy deserves everything that Dean's never even allowed himself to dream of. _You_… you're the reason Dean hurts now. You're the reason he's going to be dragged into Hell in one year's time and man, I gotta tell you… he's scared. He is fucking terrified! You ever imagine what a condemned man feels like walking to the gallows? Or how about the witches back at Salem when they tied 'em to the stake and put the kindling at their feet… the match just waiting for the strike? Or the terror some poor slob feels whose parachute won't open, forever falling as he watches the earth barreling up to kiss him? That's _nothing_, Sammy. Peace.. of.. cake.. Nothing like the terror Dean's going through. After all, they're gonna be dead soon enough and all their pain and suffering will be over. Done, forgotten… _finito_… but not poor Dean… He'll have an eternity in Hell to regret his choices, and right now, he's got a year to think about the coming pain… and he is, you know. In fact, that's _all_ he thinks about."

Sam silently cried, tears no longer bound, left to freely run down his face. Not only facing Dean's mortality, but his brother spending an eternity in Hell, his soul never free to rest. The images were too painful, too real, too true.

"I mean, he ain't an idiot… he _knows _what Hell means for a hunter, not to mention one of the Winchesters. They're a'waiting and an-ti-ci-pa-ting. He might act all cocky and carefree… just having himself a grand old time with the Doublemint Twins, but he's just running… _pretending_… and he's pretty damn good at it, isn't he? Lots and lots of practice. A lifetime to prepare for this role. He says he's fine, says he's going to enjoy his last year, but how can he when all he does is picture where he'll be in a year's time? That smile, that cocky attitude, you should know by now that's just his game face. You know his game face, don't ya, Sport? That mask he puts on to hide what's really going on? To shield what he's _really _feeling… or do you even care? Have you ever? As long as Dean's there to make everything all right for little Sammy, then who cares if things suck for Dean? Certainly not you."

Sam dissolved into a heap on the floor. His arms wrapped around his knees, his face buried. Spasms of pain quaked through his body as tears overcame him, the truth unbearable. His silence only spurred on the demon, relishing his chance to vent out all his filth. Sam sat rocking back and forth on the floor, his mind lost in his own thoughts, the demons words skirting about his consciousness, the totality of his anguish overwhelming, allowing him to only process part of the meanings. His own mind providing ample pain without the need to listen to this evil's rant.

"The truth is his life's always been hell. He's a fractured, broken, shell of a man and he's going to fit right in there in Hell. Sammy's protector finally getting what he deserves. He never did exist without you, Sammy. When he looks in that mirror now he sees himself in Hell in a year, flames lapping all around him… a pretty, empty package being burned coal black, black enough to rival his soul. Nothing more. It's only ever been when he looks in your eyes that he can even see his own reflection. Only through your eyes does he even exist and you're not gonna be there to validate him. He's going to be all alone _again_. What he's always feared. Not even Dad around to offer support. Nope, Daddy escaped, but Dean won't be so lucky. Dean's going to burn for all eternity with no one to hear him scream. He's going to suffer because of _you _and his blind devotion to you." Leviathan smiled; his words and twisted tales finally bringing on the pain, cutting to the core of who Sam was and what his relationship with his brother had always been. His voice again mutated into a tender mockery, his eyes gleaming with victory. "But you _love_ him… he's _everything_ to you… yeah, right! _Words…_ Sammy. They're just words. Empty and vacant and yes, words really can hurt you, especially when Dean knows they mean nothing… that _he _means nothing."

Sam shuddered, his mind on overload, but one thought held firm, gripped tight within his shaking hands. _Lies, it's all lies… Love… there __is__ love, real love, a deep brotherly bond. Dean means everything. Dean __is__ everything. He has to know that, he has to._

Evil refused to be silenced, his words inflicting one last pain. "Yeah, _love_… pure love… it's so silent Dean can't even hear it. Most days he doesn't even know it's there."

TBC

Next chapter Envy

_I am going to change the rating on this to M just to be safe. I don't plan on being overly graphic, but this has been a very intense read and I still worry about offending someone or being censored and I need to be free to write the story as it demands to be written. I still promise the brothers will gain knowledge and control over the situation by the end. Brotherly moments will come. _

_I apologize for taking so long to update. I have been overwhelmed by the demands of the holidays, work, and visitors. I have been hard at work writing and rewriting, but there are many pieces to fit together and I want to make sure the chapters are as good as I can make them before I post. This is turning into the most excruciatingly difficult story I have ever attempted and I want to do it justice. Thanks for reading and understanding, B.J. _


	5. Envy

"_Envy eats nothing but its own heart."_ German Proverb

Chapter Five – Envy

"Dean?"

"Huh…? _What?"_

"Where were you?"

"Bobby, we _gotta_ get back. _Sam…_ " Dean was rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers desperately trying to relieve the stress pooling there, a worried cast to his eyes as the green orbs pleaded with Bobby to hurry up, his voice jagged and raw.

"What? Sam can handle things. We need to finish loading up the rest of these supplies. Won't be much longer." Bobby continued filling the trunk with rock salt, tossing the ammo in beside the containers of holy water. "We gotta be ready when they come."

Dean glanced off into the distance while his hands kept busy loading the supplies; going through the motions like the good soldier while his mind was engaged elsewhere, back where his heart lay.

Bobby paused, examining the hunter before him, his eyes squeezed into slits below the dirty brim of his hat. "Dean, what is it? What's got you all twisted?"

Dean looked up with terror glazing his eyes. His dimples flashed in a desperate attempt to deny the agony creeping into the very essence of his being and making his skin crawl from the intrusion. That bastard was digging up the bones of the past, twisting and perverting the Winchesters' lives to serve his own evil agenda, tormenting his brother with a web of nasty lies. _It's what demons do._ "He's listening to that bastard's lies, Bobby… I know it. I can _feel_ it."

"Sam's not stupid. He knows demon's lie… he'd never… "

"He is, Bobby… " his voice trailed off, "_He_ _is._ I heard it in his voice." Dean's low voice broke, imperceptible unless you knew him, could read him.

Bobby heard it and his stomach lurched and he _knew_. "Dean… " Bobby slammed the lid of the trunk. His eyes narrowed as he sucked in a deep breath. _Of all the times for Sam to be a stubborn ass, goddammit! We sure as hell don't need this. Dean sure as hell don't. _He grimaced and bent down the brim of his hat. "Let's move then."

He gave the man beside him the offer of a slight smile and nodded as he headed back to the drivers side and slid in. Dean quickly jumped into shotgun position, his knees bent up against the glove box, his leg bouncing with anticipation or dread or both. Dean gazed out the side window, his thoughts who knows where… back in time… _there sure ain't no point in thinking about the future, now is there? _

Bobby gunned the engine and peeled out of the lot, dusk was approaching and their time was winding down. Hell was coming to claim them, six powerful demons on a mission to annihilate them. Their odds of surviving the night so damn small they might as well just accept defeat now and pack it in. But that wasn't their way; they were hunters and they would go down fighting… then if by some small miracle they survived 'til morning, there'd be hell to pay… time enough then for Dean to deal with his brother. Bobby cursed that Sam was putting one more pain on Dean's shoulders, shoulders that had already bore too much weight, were already stooped over from the cost of surviving.

--

Love may be quiet, but Sam always knew Dean loved him. He'd always felt it, wrapped tight around him like a soft, Lionel blanket keeping him warm and safe even amidst the horrors of their lives, and he prayed Dean could feel it too. He had to. Love was all they had. It might be tattered and ragged to the touch, worn down with bare threads barely keeping the holes from working through, but it was familiar and cozy, and all they'd ever had. _Love… _

This evil sonofabitch was trying to destroy all that, negate all the love by dredging up the pain. The Winchesters' lives had always been scarred by evil, tainted by the darkness in this world, ever since that inferno set them on this path; and they'd known pain, more pain than any family should ever be forced to bear, but they'd always held firm in their love for each other throughout the bad times that followed. Even when Sam took off on his own to Stanford and refused all contact, letting his brother's voice messages languish on his cell phone for months before they finally deleted off on their own; even when Dad went missing and they spent a year chasing after him only to have him up and walk out of their lives yet again under the pretense of protecting them. Even when they had fought throughout the years, Sam and Dad, and Dean was the only thing keeping them from killing each other; the love was always there, peeking out from the corners of their minds reminding them of what was most important. _Family…_

Sam tried to hold tight to the love, but his anguish and grief were consuming him, threatening to bury him under the unfathomable weight of despair this demon brought. The demon's taunts only adding to his grief over Dean's crossroads deal and the dire consequences of his actions, not yet providing him with the key to extricate them from this mess, but he still held out hope of an answer if he could just hang on. His only chance at survival was to draw on that love, to tap into the very heart of his brother to fight the terror the demon was dredging up; his pain and anger at the demon's lies, and worse, the possible truths, welling up until he felt his wrath boiling over, threatening to devour him. The demon's words pushing him almost to the brink… _almost_. Dean's love pulling him back, wrapping him up in all the love Dean had always held for his family, for _him_.

He pictured his valiant big brother in his mind and took comfort from Dean's strength. Dean was always so strong and in control. Selfless enough to put his family's needs before his own, courageous enough to do what was best for the family regardless of the cost or the overwhelming odds, wise enough to caution his kid brother eons ago when they hunted that Wendigo that he couldn't keep his anger burning over the long haul, that it would kill him. _Patience, little brother… you gotta have patience. We'll find Dad, I promise. We'll avenge Mom and Jess and kill that evil-eyed sonofabitch. _And he did. Dean _did…_ Dean was always steady and sure. Always the voice echoing through the fog, leading his brother toward the light. _We'll be alright, Sammy, we will. I promise…_

If Dean says it then it has to be true… it has to.

Dean always claimed to be the belligerent one, and he could be at times, but where his family was concerned he was, more often than not, the voice of reason. Dean, the peacekeeper… nurturing, protecting, doing whatever needed to be done, _saving_ his family time and again. Sam was now more determined than ever to save Dean and he would; he had to, there was no other option. Whatever it took, be it facing this demon and all his filthy lies, or marching into Hell himself in one year's time to drag his brother back up to the surface. _Whatever… _He owed Dean that much and so much more.

Sam settled his fury, releasing it and channeling Dean's calm in the face of danger. A stealthy hunter waiting for his chance, steady and true.., choosing his battles, plotting his hunt.

The demon's grin faded as he was forced to face another lost opportunity, so close to victory he could fucking taste it, before it was ripped from his quivering lips. _Damn these Winchesters! They are so damn unpredictable… so very challenging… but there is always a means. They are, after all, only human. _

He needed to be more subtle, more cunning. _Oh, Sammy, the games are just beginning._ He laughed quietly to himself, shuddering with smug satisfaction. He felt a tingling deep to his core as he revisited that victorious moment so very long ago. He was simply a snake in the grass then, offering up that luscious red apple, sweet and juicy, and so very desirable. And look how wonderfully delicious that turned out! The master plan unfurling just as expected. Like Eve in the original garden, humans can't resist the urge to disobey, to push the boundaries and embrace their sins. It's only a matter of time until little Sammy wraps his succulent lips around the flesh of the fruit. _Yes, my boy, you need to taste the strange fruit, so sweet, so fucking perfect. Just what your heart desires. Trust me._

The hunter looked so pensive, probably dreaming of happier times… _or not_. "So, Sammy, shall we move along?" Leviathan amiably inquired.

Sam looked up and studied the demon, biting his lower lip in concentration, wondering if there was a chance for any meaningful intel or if he should simply waste the sucker. He needed to be strong like Dean and leave his own concerns behind, bury his considerable pain and anxiety and trudge on… _this is for the good of the family… for Dean._

He again exerted what control he could muster, his tone harsh and unyielding; another reminder to this evil sonofabitch of just _who_ was in charge here. "You're running out of options, buddy boy." He grinned as he threw the demon's own words back at him, "Time's a' tickin'."

"Yes, yes, don't want to waste that precious time." The demon grinned as he observed the bluster of the boy, still thinking he could claim victory over Hell's own spawn, still believing in a big brother that was doomed to an eternity in Hell from the very beginning. The die cast when he was a mere child of four, his destiny molding him into a broken man filled with pain and seeking out the only relief he was allowed through his sins, his many delightful sins. Leviathan took perverse joy in tallying up the results of Dean's little personality profile. "Let's see, we've covered lust, gluttony, wrath and pride. I think we'll hold on to envy for the grand finale. That work for you, Sparky?"

"Whatever. Just finish it," Sam replied with disgust, his eyes never leaving the image of evil, watching and analyzing, hoping for some way inside the twisted mind so he could wrangle the truth out of the bastard.

"Yes, indeed. Dean does covet his sins, doesn't he? Don't guess sloth and greed really fit, but hell, five out of seven ain't bad, eh, Sammy? Not bad at all, even if you do have him beat at wrath and pride. It's still enough to get him that all important reserved parking spot in Hell. Too bad he never developed a taste for greed or sloth though; he coulda had a grand slam," Leviathan snickered, his grin brilliant. "You know you get extra points for that, but… no matter."

Sam shifted uneasy before the demon. All this talk of Dean's sins was getting old, focusing on the negative instead of the good Sam saw when he looked at his brother. "Get on with it," he lazily muttered.

The demon smiled at Sam's unease. _Slow and steady… just a bit longer and I'll have you. _"He may have a touch of them, you know, greedy 'cause he wants his brother by his side, but all things considered, not exactly greedy in a traditional sense. Never did yearn for money or material possessions… except, of course, that car. Always did covet the car, but then again that was more 'cause it belonged to Daddy… and you know, _Mommy_ rode around in the Impala. He so desperately needed to hold on to the one connection he had to his previous life, the life he would have been living if not for that nasty-ass, yellow-eyed bastard."

Sam nodded in silent agreement. Dean was too noble to lust after money or goods; doing something important with his life more desired than a status job or big fancy house, or any number of other exterior trappings conveying conventional success. He smiled though when he pictured the car. Dad's Impala always holding Dean's passion, devoted to her as if she were a member of the family and Sam admitted with a slight smile, that maybe she was. She… _she…_ After all, _she'd_ been there the whole time, the one constant in their lives besides their nuclear family, providing them with their one true home; Dean's love for the car only surpassed by his love for his family.

A sharp stab of sorrow and guilt hit Sam as he silently remembered how Dean abruptly offered his car keys to Sarge and the others when that Croatoan plague threatened to end them. Dean casually displaying his willingness to give up his life along with the car to stay with his dying brother; tying his fate to the fate of his only living kin… a precursor to his demon deal. Love and pride and anguish all mixed together in a cocktail of deep emotion as Sam remembered Dean's quiet surrender and the hollow look on his face when he said he was tired. _Tired… tired enough to finally give up, to seek out blessed rest after a lifetime of hardship, and he'd only faced more pain and sacrifice since. _

Leviathan broke in on Sam's thoughts, twisting the good memories into sordid, perverting the love into base human reflexes. Doing what he does best. "Did you ever wonder if Mommy and Daddy did it in the car, Sport?" His eyebrows arching as he twisted his lips into a lascivious grin. "Dean sure did it in the car… first time sliding into home plate was in the backseat of that car. Did ya know that, Sammy? Not quite sixteen he was, of course, the girl was almost twenty… Dean always did go for older women. You think he was looking for a Mommy figure?" The demon laughed, his delight consuming him, his eyes watering with pure, sick joy. He looked at Sam and was met with an icy stare. "Yeah, right, probably not. He was just looking for some action, eh, Sammy? Nothing like an experienced woman to bring out the lover in a young stud, our young Benjamin and his own personal Mrs. Robinson. And you thought _you _were a good student? Dean always was on the prowl for knowledge… he was just looking to perfect _other _skills… real world skills like how to slay a demon and then take care of that damsel in distress. You know how women get when they see something they like, don'tcha, Sammy? Women just always had to have Dean anyway they could… whenever and wherever," his voice growling, "_down and dirty_. Not like they really wanted _him, _of course… more that hot bod than anything else… but I digress, we've already covered this, right?" He looked up and grinned, his black eyes only serving to remind Sam of his evil intent.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, his eyes never straying from the demon's, knowing he needed to maintain a casual attitude and not let this evil's filth get to him. "You're the one who seems to have the gutter mind."

"Only following big brother's lead." His voice took on a raspy growl as he spit out the familiar anthem with relish, "Sex, drugs, and rock and roll." He laughed, his eyes glimmering with moisture. "Oh, Dean always was so focused on the base pleasures of life. I don't guess we need any clarification on the sex part, right? Drugs? Well, I guess that would have to be the adrenaline from the hunt that lets him _soar like an eagle,_ and then of course, ya gotta have the booze to bring him crashing back down to earth, and let's not forget that loud mullet rock of his… enough said."

"Enough with the sex, it's been covered. Personally, I think you're just jealous," Sam snarked.

"Perhaps." He smiled as his tongue again rolled out over his lips, smacking them and pursing them into a little air kiss. "Yes, quite possibly. I must admit, I do admire a great tale of lust and your brother and his exploits… M'm M'm Good! Exquisite, like fine wine. I wonder if that's why all the women are lined up to drink him down?"

Sam's look was deadly, clearly not amused. "Move along."

"Of course, Sammy… your wish is my command. Sloth never really fit either, did it? Oh, he'd take a little time off between jobs to unwind, gotta have his downtime with the ladies, to, y'know, _get down_… oops… _sorry,_ you know what they say about old habits." He fluttered his eyelashes and smirked, his innocent game continuing to grate on Sam's nerves. He only took a moment to get back on track, smiling coyly as he continued. "The truth is he really took after John there too, always working, always on the lookout for the next big hunt. Never any rest for the wicked, huh, Sammy? Always more evil out there waiting to be killed. That next crucial job… " The demon took to speaking his words in a sing-song manner, his eyes glimmering with delight, "evil to slay, innocents to save, blah, blah, blah. So _boring_, really. Do-gooders! What a joke. Can't save the world… but then you knew that, didn't you? You always knew evil would win in the end, down to the wire at the big finale." Leviathan again displayed his concerned, caring face, his words soft and tender and false. "Is that why you left? You knew it was hopeless? That it was inevitable you'd lose in the end? _Sammy,_ did you see the writing on the wall? Maybe a vision.., is that it?" The demon's eyebrows arched as he playfully waited for an answer.

"I left to go to school, period."

"Right… _right_." Levi smirked, his intent gaze making it seem as if he could tunnel inside Sam's head. "So it wasn't 'cause you saw Dean in some dark vision dying out there on the hunt?" The demon waited, letting his ugly thoughts sink in, letting the young hunter stew in his anguish for just a moment before he continued on. "You know, don't you, Sammy? That if he hadn't made that deal he'd have just ended up dead anyway, in some dark alley or dank basement, or some tangled thicket out in the woods where his rotting corpse would never be found. Some foul place where evil lurks on cold, lonely nights; a gun clutched tight in his cold, dead hands, a look of shock frozen in his vacant eyes. Tragic really, 'cause as twisted and sick as Dean is… he always believed he could win. Funny, ain't it? The one with the least hope, the least reason to believe… who'd already seen his world crumble away in a heap of utter despair, actually _believed _he could make a fucking difference. Really, so very, very _precious_. Why else would he push so hard? Always on the road, fighting, tilting at those damn windmills… _Don Quixote_… " He shook his head in dismay, his eyes so tender and caring while his voice cut deep to the heart of Sam's pain. "So, does that make you Sancho, Sam? Or can't you get it up for the role?" The demon paused to suck in the quiet pain and savor the moment. "I guess not. Sancho always looked out for the Don, and you sure as hell never did that, now did you? Nope, that was Dean's role yet again. Christ, Sammy, does Dean have to do _everything?"_ he exclaimed, delighting in the tortured expression consuming Sam's face. He smiled as he softly whispered, "Seems he does… but I guess he is just like Don Quixote, a bit delusional if he thinks you have any chance of winning this war."

Sam shook off his pain, his focus strictly on the job. Dean _was_ Don Quixote. He _was _noble and true, a fighter for right, a _hero_. Dean's refusal to give up, to surrender his brother to the forces of evil, his determination to keep his family safe gave them their strength and kept Sam moving forward with hope. It didn't matter what Sam was or wasn't, or what this demon painted him to be… he had other concerns, more important areas that still needed to be explored. The time for answers was growing short, Dean would be back soon. He could stand here filled with pride and praise his brother all day long, hell, for all eternity; that is, if they had all the time in the world, if Dean's time in this world wasn't winding down. He knew Dean's good points, this was about searching out his secrets, the hidden hurts that held him back and kept him from fulfilling who he _could _be; from allowing him to want _something_ for himself, to _want _to live. "I'm getting bored with your antics. Let's move on to the heart of it. The _big finale_, as you say."

The demon's voice was calm and mellow, so casual in his response. "Absolutely. I'm ready now to discuss my specialty, on to the main course."

"And that'd be?"

"Envy, naturally. You envious of big brother, Sammy?"

_Envious? That sounds so distasteful. We're brothers; we're not competing against each other. I've always looked up to him, wanted to __be__ him. I admire Dean, respect him. Hell, I've tried to be him my entire life, but envy? No! No way! Envy is one step away from jealousy, implying you'd willingly take what he has, covet it for yourself. I would never take from Dean, want him to have less… if anything, I've always wanted him to have more… to have what he deserves._

"No." _Never. Ever._ Sam smiled in recognition. The feelings of awe that had gripped him since he was a young child watching Dean conquer some impossible situation or beat up some bruising bully surged forth in his gut, making him swell with pride that Dean was _his_ big brother. _Everyone in the world should be envious of __me__ for having a brother like Dean; for having someone as loving and fiercely protective as Dean in my life._ Sam looked into the demon's sinister eyes and smiled, honestly answering, "Who wouldn't want to be like Dean?"

"You're not _listening_ here, Sparky. _Words,_ Sammy boy. Come on, drop the rosy pretense; let's get real here, shall we? You're not the hero-worshipping little brother anymore, being bullied in the schoolyard and grateful for Dean's rescue. You're a man. Why don't you fucking act like it? Once you learned what that thing was between your legs, you recognized a more interesting side to your brother, didn't you? And you wanted that sexual prowess. You've always envied his power over women. His exploits.., the hot, sexy action!"

Sam laughed, his eyes wide with disgust. The truth being that was the one area where he differed from Dean, preferring a steady relationship to a string of one night stands. "Not hardly," he scoffed.

"You are a _man_, aren't you, Sammy?" Leviathan had a dirty smirk on his lips, his eyes perusing the form of the human before him, his gaze wandering down below his belt. He mocked, "You _do_ have the right equipment in there, correct?"

"More of your sick lies? Don't you demons ever learn? I told you, enough with the sex."

"Protest all you want, Sammy. I KNOW humans. You're a red-blooded male and you all want to succeed in the conquest. It's like a hunt, isn't it? Caveman dragging a wench back to his cave and having his way with her. The lion roaring his victory, pounding out his masculinity, proving his virility."

Sam grimaced, tired of this nasty demon's sickness. "You better move on to something relevant. I'm fed up with your twisted lies and sexual perversions."

"TOUGH. Face it, Sammy, this is who Dean is. Let's be brutally honest here, shall we? How many women have you had? How many has Dean? Don'tcha have just a smidge of jealousy? Just a smidge?" His eyebrows arched in amused wonder, his lips twisting into a sneer while his dark eyes leered at the hunter. "Don't ya wish you could get as much ass? You're jealous of his confidence and swagger, aren't you, _boy?_ His brash boldness… His ability to bed any woman he desires? All his many, _many _conquests. Come on, Sammy, you can tell the truth… no one here but us demons." His voice took on a tender tone then, fake concern in an overtly obscene manner. "Haven't you been so very lonely since poor Jessica died? Exactly how much porn can a guy watch?"

"Shut up, you bastard. Don't you dare mention Jess to me." The anger was fresh and real, barely contained.

"Oh, my! Sensitive much, are we?"

Sam stepped away and raked his hand down his face. He concentrated on breathing, maintaining that even keel, channeling Dean's determined restraint when the job demanded it. Lives weren't at stake here, it was simply words… _words can't hurt me. Sticks and stones…_

Sam paused before continuing, "We've covered all this before… Dean and the ladies… I'm done with it. You best come up with something new, something I want to hear or else you're dust. One more demon sent packing to Hell, back where you belong," Sam threatened in a cold and deliberate voice.

Leviathan chuckled softly, as if he were privy to a secret joke. "Funny, isn't it? How you humans always hanker for what you don't have? It's a fact of life, my boy… one of the big truths in Dean's life… his envy. Yes, indeedy, _envy_… always makes my job so easy… so _very _easy."

Sam quirked an eyebrow, sucked right back into the fray. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why, Sammy, don't tell me you _believe_ Dean wants all those random women? All that meaningless sex? A revolving door of titillation and debauchery? Think about it. After the thrill is gone, what's left?" The demon twisted in his seat, leaning forward, his glistening eyes and cocky smirk displaying his glee. "After he rocks their world and shoots his load, then what? Huh? I'll tell ya, Sammy. They wiggle their tight, little asses and walk right out the door leaving him all alone… _yet again_. Used, abused, fucked over… It gets old, Sammy. Real old, real fast. Oh, sure, the highs are so damn unbelievable, the orgasms that man is capable of! Still… " The demon paused with a huge grin on his face. He grunted out a low groan of ecstasy before he fell silent, concern and compassion plastered on his face like a Halloween mask, grotesque and wrong.

Sam appeared transfixed; his eyes absorbing Dean's silent pain as he quietly listened. The demon didn't make him wait long, his tale continuing on, "After the spasms ease, as the pleasure ebbs from his spent body… What's left, Sammy? _Nothing, _that's what! Empty and alone, just.. like.. always.. And man, those lows sure do weigh a man down. That's why he keeps after the woman at such a furious pace. He's only trying to recapture that endorphin high; it's like a drug, an addiction he can't kick, and we know those always end up good. Every time they walk out that door he plummets a little lower into that pit of despair. One of these days, he's gonna sink into the bog and never resurface. A man can only take so much rejection, even a man like Dean."

Sam stood staring at the demon, digesting the facts as presented, recognizing the bitter truth within and cringing over Dean's fate.

The demon continued on in a breathless whisper, knowing the truth of his words was slithering into the boy's consciousness and stirring up all his turmoil. "The truth is you fantasize about being a player, and Dean dreams of having one woman who cares. For once in his life to make love with a woman who gives a damn about _who_ he is and _what_ he wants… _just once_. Someone who might actually love him, as twisted and damaged as he is. Who wants _him_ and not just the pretty packaging, the empty façade he waltzes out when he can't bear for anyone to see him." The demon enjoyed watching the fearless hunter before him tremble as the truth drove home. The slight quirk of his head and the glimmer of fresh tears in his eyes signally he knew the truth when he heard it. Leviathan smiled and continued on in a soft, tender voice, "Dean's always longed for a woman who'd stay and greet the morning light instead of leaving him to face the darkness alone." The compassion in the demon's voice was so convincing, his words so true and tragic. "Sammy… he's just looking for someone to _love_ him. Someone to save him from his tragic, fucked-up existence and offer him a chance at a real life. To have what you had with Jess. Is that too much to ask?" He sat watching and waiting, knowing the truth was harder to face than any lies he could invent. Sam didn't respond so he answered for him, "Apparently so."

Sam's gut clenched from the pain of this truth. _Cassie.., Carmen_… one thing stood out amid all the one night stands. All the signs were there that Dean wanted more; he just didn't believe it was possible. He'd resigned himself a long time ago to being denied, to savoring the fleeting moments of passion and pleasure he could grasp hold of before the pain again descended. One more sacrifice for Dean Winchester, one more pain in a life filled with pain. A life he was forced to live.

"He's a_lways_ been envious of you, Sam. You could have a life, a true love… a _chance_. A woman to share your bed _and_ your life, to offer real human kindness, a true connection with someone who wanted to spend a lifetime with her man. You have no idea what Dean would give to have just a taste of that warmth and compassion, to finally feel true love. You can't possibly comprehend the emptiness of his life. You couldn't, he lives in another world… you could never understand what it's like to be Dean… and then to top it all off to see his little brother have it all, a smorgasbord of everything he's ever desired, but could never even allow himself to dream of."

Sam shuddered, Dean's own voice echoing that pain.

_See deep down… I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. _

Sam swallowed down his grief, the truth harsh and real. The shapeshifter's words so prophetic, exposing Dean's hidden feelings, the side of his brother that he tried so desperately to hide. Dean always acting the cocky Casanova, delighting in the conquest, living in the moment… _love 'em and leave 'em._ A smirk on his lips and a million tales to tell. Grabbing hold of what little life offered and making the most of it. But real moments are so fleeting for a hunter, so tenuous.., especially now with time running out. Dean deserved more… Dean _always_ deserved more. Dean deserved _everything._

_To be honest, I'm happy if Dean is envious of what I had with Jess. That means there's a chance for him. There's hope he might actually want something for himself. Maybe if it is true, I can reach him. Make him want to live. Make him try._

Evil subtly twisted the knife; just a slight turn was all it took. "Guess it's never gonna happen for big brother, is it? Not now. One year and it's all over… If it never happened before, it sure as hell ain't gonna happen now."

Evil smiled as a lone tear rolled down Sam's cheek.

Sam leaned back against the wall and let the words sink in, pondering the depth of their meaning. He didn't need to hear any more words detailing what his brother lacked as far as love went. That point had been driven home and chiseled in stone, the recent djinn incident and Dean's heartfelt confession fresh in his thoughts. Dean wanted normal, wanted a _real _relationship with a loving woman like Carmen, wanted the apple-pie-normal-mow-the-lawn-suburban-life of everyman. He wanted everything the hunting life didn't allow, but nothing would change unless he broke Dean's demon deal. Time was the enemy now, yet time was the only solution to Dean's plight.

_Time… since when had time ever been kind to the Winchesters?_

Sam shuddered as waves of anguish washed over him. Hard as he tried to deny it, jealousy and envy were snaking their way into his relationship with his brother. Brothers should want the best for each other, should never covet what the other has… unless the scales are so outrageously out of balance. Dean _should _be jealous and envious, but he knew he wasn't, that it wasn't in his make-up to be. He could never truly be, not of his brother. Dean wasn't like most men; he never wanted for himself, only for his brother, _only for Sammy_. But surely a small piece of him wondered what it would be like, longed for _something_… a scrap, the leftover remains after Sam finished gorging at the banquet of life.

_Didn't Dean deserve a small piece of heaven amid the remnants of hell?_

He feared Dean was scared to even dream of more, and that terror consumed Sam. Ever since the demon deal all he had wanted was for Dean to _want _to live… to live for _himself_, because he _deserved_ to live. He wanted Dean to try to find a way out, to not surrender to the hopelessness and to fight. That's who his brother was… a fighter! He so needed to have that man back, the fighter who would never give up.

Sam involuntarily shook, as if a cold breeze had blown through an open door to engulf him in the frigid reality of Dean's life. He wiped his tears with one swift swipe of his hand and pressed onward, _miles to go before I sleep_. "What other truths you have? Something that matters… something to keep your ass from burning in Hell?"

Leviathan shook his head in agreement, playing along, like always. "Yes, let's move along then, shall we? I think this line of discussion is making me depressed… so sad, so very tragic." It only took him a moment to careen past his depression as his lips curved up in another huge grin, his eyes displaying a newfound glee in stark contrast to the anguish still consuming Sam's eyes. "Let's see… what can you do to help big brother? Hmmm… there must be _something_." He drummed his fingers on the wooden arm of the chair, his gaze never leaving the younger Winchester as his brow furrowed in concentration, drawing out his next words, savoring the look of expectation gazing back at him. _So, Sammy, are we having fun yet?_

Slowly he spoke, "What information do you need to soothe his grief… and _yours?"_ A flicker of thought ghosted across his face as he excitedly responded, "By George, I think I've got it! You know how everyone always says you're the thinker of the family? Dean's the brawn, and you're the brains?"

Sam nodded his head in acknowledgment, but his eyes silently questioned the relevance of that statement, a common one, echoed through the years. "So?"

"Not true."

"Yeah, so?"

"Oh, Sammy… do I have to spell it out? I thought you were the brains? Can't put two and two together?" he snickered with annoyance. "That would be four."

"Aren't you a riot? What's your point?"

"Well, Sammy… you and Dean aren't so narrowly defined now, are you? Just like you worked out and got all big and strong… rippling muscles.., glistening, taut skin… " His eyes rolled over the muscular frame of the younger man, his lust apparent in his sly smile. He smacked his lips in appreciation. "M'mmm, have I told you lately how hunky you are? You _are _simply delish, my young Winchester. So manly… so rough and ready. Me thinks Dean has a little competition in the beefcake department." He offered a throaty growl, "I'd love to take you for a spin. How about it, my Adonis? Care to see how the other half lives?" His eyes filled with mirth and he let out a roar of laughter, delighting in the unease Sam felt.

Sam winced in disgust. "Enough with your sick fantasies. We were talking about Dean."

"Ah, yes… _Dean._ Well, like I was saying, Dean ain't stupid. You know how he was always skipping school? Playing poker… hustling pool? Earning money so _you_ could stay in school?"

"Yeah, so?"

"It wasn't always like that… he didn't _always_ hate school, Sammy. He just let you think that so you wouldn't know the truth."

"Yeah?" Sam swallowed, his eyes intent as he searched his own memories for clues, unsure of the truth of what was being said, but aware of all the potential for sacrifice… still waiting for more… more truths… more pain. "And what's that? What's the big, bad secret about school?"

Leviathan rolled up his sinister lips into an almost sincere grin, _almost_ if you didn't know the intent behind the devious smirk. "He was _smart_, Sammy, always was. He just played dumb. All the smartass remarks and the snarky attitude just kept the pressure off, the expectations. See Dean knew long before he ever consciously realized it that hunting was going to be his life… hunting his only option… that he had no choice in the matter. He just fully embraced it at sixteen, him and Dad burning that fugly beast out in the woods. Dean being Dean, he simply accepted it and moved on. No muss, no fuss… just accepted the way it was. Dad needed him, and you know how much Dean needs to be needed, but… " the demon grinned, broad and deep, clearly enjoying his feast, "he had dreams once… hopes for his future… back before."

"Before what?"

"Before all hope was lost. Before he surrendered himself and the wistful dreams of a young man with his entire life before him."

Sam pondered this information, analyzing the possible truths and diving into the facts he did know. He always knew Dean had suffered a bum rap all these years when he was teased about how his brilliant brother surpassed him in the brains department. He himself had taken delight in kidding him on his lack of education and he wished he could take back every dig, every slight, every childish brotherly attack. He knew Dean was automatically slotted into the stifling role of the handsome hunk, ready for a fight, but unable to think his way out of a paper bag. Boxed in by the common belief that he always fought first and thought after, that is if he had a thought at all.

_Dean might slough off the research when he can, but he could always do it. How many times has he figured out how to waste some evil? How many times did he find the missing link? How many? Too many… so many innocents saved because Dean was good, capable.., smart…_

He knew Dean was smart, he _always_ knew, maybe just smart in a different way than he was, pursuing his own interests instead of what the schools chose to offer. Regardless, he needed to know what the demon knew, what other pieces he held, tantalizing Sam with promises of inside information. Sam took hold of the lure and waded into the depths. "Go on."

The demon smiled. He waited, silent. Savoring the moment. A little salt and a few more degrees, one more flip on the barbie, and little Sammy would be done… _fucking perfection!_

The demon's voice again cutting and harsh, twisting his knife and waiting for the coming blood, "You know, Dean did want for something… once… all those years ago. Back before he shoved it down and resumed his role as protector. Before he shut down his own dreams, barricaded them behind a fucking block wall, relinquishing his desires for the good of the family, for the protection of kid brother."

"What dreams? What did Dean want?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sammy… maybe _freedom_. Like maybe getting away from it all… the expectations and the pressures, all the responsibility, the suffocating demands on his energy… _you_."

"Me?" Sam smiled; he knew lies when he heard them.

"Yeah, Sammy… YOU."

"You're lying."

Leviathan nodded his head slowly, his grin deepening. "You think so? You know that homemade EMF detector that you mocked? The one he was so proud of, made from that busted up walkman? You know when he made it?"

The disdain on Sam's face was obvious. "After I went away to school, _obviously_."

"Bzzzzz, wrong, go to the back of the class."

"Then when?"

"When he was sixteen. Tenth grade. Practical physics."

"You're lying. I never saw it before."

"True. He never let you. Dad either."

"Why? Why would he hide it?"

"Let's see, why does Dean do anything? Oh, yeah, _right_, for the good of the family."

Sam's brow furrowed in deep concentration, his mind working at explaining his brother, understanding his actions. He was intrigued by the demon's comments and willingly continued down the path. A puzzled look filled his eyes. "Why would hiding it be for the good of the family?"

"It got him noticed and that was _never_ a good thing, you know that. He actually got scared over it. _Terrified_… fucking petrified… I mean, the Winchesters always kept such a low profile. Didn't want the authorities noticing you and asking questions. Too many skeletons in the closet, eh, Sammy boy?"

"How'd it get him noticed?"

"He won the science fair… got a medal and everything. Wonder what happened to it?" Leviathan only waited a moment, sensing no answer was coming he readily provided his own, "That's right, he threw it in the dumpster behind the quickie mart. Couldn't have you or Dad finding it and asking questions… questions Dean couldn't possibly answer without all his sacrifices coming back to haunt him. Anyhoo, his little invention was sent on to the state contest and he took second place behind some future Einstein. And that was just the beginning, the beginning of the end for poor, pathetic Dean. He had offers then, Sammy… _options_. Mr. Mackenzie was so hyped up to have such a prodigy in his class, started talking college and the _future_. He coulda been an engineer, an inventor… he coulda changed the fucking world, _Sammy._" He mimicked a young Marlon Brando, "He coulda been a contender!"

Sam sunk back against the wall, never before considering Dean might have wanted to go to college, to escape like he had. The words of the shapeshifter echoing through his mind, resonating with the words of the demon, validating the truths. Dean had always appeared so intent on his training, so content to follow Dad's orders and do the job. _But then that's Dean, isn't it? Never showing what he really thinks or feels, always hiding who he is and what he wants. Always morphing into whatever his family needed him to be, losing himself in the process. A shapeshifter becoming the perfect son… the perfect big brother… the perfect soldier. _

Leviathan drank down the turmoil he saw consuming Sam's face, the anguish and realizations clear. He was finally breaking through, revealing truths Sam knew deep down, but never could bear to acknowledge. He savored the coming feast.., _dinner bell's a' chimin'!_ His mellow voice continued, filled with feint concern, "That's when Dean almost gave in to the selfish desire to go after what he wanted. He actually swirled it around in his mouth, savoring the taste of freedom. Then reality bitch-slapped him back into formation, a soldier doing his duty. He came home and there.. you.. were… so demanding, and Dad… talk about demanding! Three days Dean lived in his little fantasy world, wondering if it was possible… hoping it was. Wishing he could _finally_ have _something_ for himself. Three days of hope… all he ever allowed himself… _three lousy days. _He was going to show Dad his medal, show him how ingenious his older son was, prove he wasn't the dummy of the family, and then it all went to hell in a handbasket… so to speak."

Sam straightened up, his jaw locked in determination, his eyes searching the demon's for signs, clues to help him separate truth from lies. "Why? What happened?"

"He was sixteen years old and he faced up to reality.., _his reality_. He accepted he didn't have options; that life was all dried up for him… sucked dry by the demands of his family. He didn't stay for Dad, Sammy. He stayed for _you._ If he'd have left at eighteen to go to college what would have happened to you? Huh? Think about it." The demon paused, watching and waiting, letting the truth wiggle its way down deep inside the young hunter's gut, heavy and undeniable, tearing at the tasty innards, wrapping around the large intestines and squeezing tight. "You would have been what? Fourteen? Home alone with _Dad?_ Can you imagine how that would've turned out? It wouldn't have been some cheesy Macaulay Culkin movie… Water and oil…" Leviathan laughed then, loud and grating, "Actually more like mixing nitro and gasoline, wouldn't you say? And we're not talking 'The Fast and The Furious' revved up fuel power, are we? Nope, there wouldn't have been any control in the Winchester house. None at all. The two of you just didn't mix, did you? You _know_ how that would have ended up. Dean certainly did. Pretty damn explosive and _someone_ had to keep the lid on. He really had no choice now, did he? So Dean sacrificed everything for you and then four years later you returned the favor by just up and leaving him. No warning, no apology, just see ya later, sucker! You up and walked out, and he was left with nothing… nothing but the pain of being used, but then, he's used to that, isn't he? Only one word to describe his life from then on… _hopeless. _Yep, Dean was back to square one, just like that little kid who lost everything in the fire; the most important person in his life leaving him yet again. All he had left then was Dad, and you know how preoccupied Dad could get… almost like being alone. And even that didn't last. Eventually Dean was alone… his worst fear realized. Alone at last."

Sam was wracked with guilt and regret from the unwavering truth, bitter and putrid in his mouth. His own selfish desire to escape at the opposite end of the spectrum from Dean's unheralded decision to stay. Their wants and needs not so very different after all; the defining truth being how they dealt with their desires: Sam going after what he wanted and Dean giving in to his family's demands.

Sam was so tired of playing these games… these hopeless games. _Hopeless…_ _did Dean really feel hopeless? Trapped? No future except for the life of a hunter… forced on him and denying him a future all his own? _His mind traveled further back, to Dean's childhood and all the sacrifices that defined his youth. _A child forced to become a man too soon, all choice denied him. _His eyes watered at the image and he wondered how many tears were left. He felt drained and empty, the weight of Dean's sacrifices wringing him dry. His only thoughts were of his brother and _his_ considerable pain. _How many tears did Dean shed in silence at the injustice of his life? How many tears did he even allow himself to truly feel? How many tears over the years were denied, stuffed down deep inside and buried alongside his grief and fear?_

Real memories, or what seemed to be real, slithered into his thoughts taking him hostage, back long ago to face what he had tried so desperately to forget. The curtain drawing back, the stage set but dark, the images slowly coming into focus; a dark and dreary night, pitch black and vacant, only the faint sound of muffled crying breaking through the stillness beyond the powerful roar of the Impala's engine. The tears of that shattered child in the backseat again seared into his mind.

_Trembling, holding on so tight, and looking so scared. The night swallowing them up in despair. Dean finally settling down to fitful sleep, exhausted and cold, curled tight against his brother, until the terror spilled over cruelly yanking him from the safety of slumber and thrusting him back into a nightmare._

"_No, don't… please! DON'T!" Dean whimpered and thrashed, pushing away from all contact, scampering to the other side of the bench seat. He sat huddled in on himself, his hands locked at the wrists striking out in front of him, frantically brushing away invisible fingers, his fists clenching and pounding against the back of the seat. He continued to cry out, "Don't… DON'T." _

_Dad swerved the car off the road, grinding to a halt, gravel flying._

_Dean's eyes flew open as the car stilled, but he didn't see… couldn't recognize his own brother reaching out to comfort him. "NO! Don't you touch him. Don't you dare. You touch him and I'll fucking kill you!" The heels of his fists scrubbing at his eyes, the tears pushed aside as a fierce look descended over his face, a familiar look of cold determination. "You don't need him. You have __me__."_

_The car sat idling in the dirty snow mixed with gravel beside the blacktop. Dad's door swung open and cold air blew in bringing another chill. The door Dean was leaning against was pulled open, startling him but before he could move away Dad was holding him tight, Dean bracing against the touch, screaming and fighting before breaking down and crying uncontrollably._

"_Dean, wake up. It's okay, you're okay… Dean, look at me. You're safe. I've got you. I've got you."_

_Dean froze in his father's embrace, his eyes skittering from his dad to his brother and back again, staring at them in shocked silence as his senses slowly returned. The hurt in his eyes still registering his terror, a horror unimaginable, his chin quivering as shattered eyes descended blinking back his tears. He gasped out his pain, his voice cracking in a rough whisper._

"_Dad, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Don't hate me… Please, Daddy, don't hate me."_

_Then Dean was wrapped up in Dad's massive arms, looking small and fragile, even younger than his years; Dad's huge hand stroking the back of his head, holding him tight against his shoulder as Dean wept, his body spasming within the firm grip. Dean's hands fisting the fabric of his dad's coat, desperate to pull him even closer, to crawl inside where it was safe and warm, to chase the demons away. _

"_I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry." Dean kept mumbling, frantic for forgiveness, for absolution, his chest heaving against the strong frame of his dad. "Don't hate me, please don't hate me."_

The demon confidently smiled. He knew the signs a flash of memory brought, the face contorting in concentration, the eyes distant and shimmering with fresh tears. _Oh, dessert is finally here! Bon appetite! _By the look of pain on Sam's face he knew it was a _good_ memory, a succulent taste-treat.

"Good times, eh, Sammy?"

"What?"

"Memories… oh, how very sweet they are. Little Dean, not quite the bold protector you remember, is he? No, the reality is he was a wimpy, whiny child. A victim of all the torment in his life. Yes, all hope was lost, wasn't it?"

Sam looked to the ceiling, hoping to find the courage to get past this. To face Dean's pain and garner the strength to offer his brother some measure of comfort. He glared at the demon, his hatred ready to exorcise this bastard back to Hell, but there were still answers needed… _miles to go... _He had to be strong, relentless, and press onward toward that elusive truth. He found himself trembling from all the memories, all the unbearable agony, and he shuddered to examine them further.

He'd always known Dean lived a hard life, but he always seemed so strong, so in control, so cocky and defiant. It hurt to picture him like this, broken, scared… _small_… No wonder little Sammy buried these memories deep, down where he didn't have to face the fact that Dean _was_ a child, even though he was older. When it came right down to it… _he was only a child._ A child more determined than Sam had ever before realized. _How did he survive it? All the pain… all the torment… all the evil that seemed determined to hurt him? To break him? _Sam's heart broke for his brother and he dreaded the truth even more and he wanted to hide, but Dean had lived it. The least he could do is face it, the memories and the pain, and somehow find a way to help his brother, to stand beside him, offering him the support he never before realized he needed.

Sam became more insistent, waiting to hear the words his heart knew to be true. He somehow found the strength to press on. "What do you mean, hope was lost?"

"I think you know."

Sam fell silent. He didn't need an answer. Dean's pain all too clear.

Leviathan let the hunter have that much needed moment to stew in the terror of the truth. He sat deep in thought, plotting out his strategy, picking and choosing what further truths he would reveal interspersed with all the lies he could slip through. Playing with humans was so delightfully entertaining, like poking a stick at a fish flopping about on dry land not knowing where to find water and salvation. Observing it with sick fascination and waiting for it to wither up and die so he could filet it with a sharp knife and sear it in a nice hot skillet. He savored his growing power over Sam, relishing the moment to dip the knife a little deeper, its jagged edge razor-sharp, peeling back the layers of skin, revealing the tender, moist meat beneath.

His soft voice finally broke through the stillness, "What's so tragic about Dean is he never, _ever_ asks for help… never asks for anything, does he? Nope, he certainly isn't dumb. He knows better than to expect anything, _especially_ from his family… his caring, loving family. He knows not to depend on you, that you'll just leave him in the end."

_I know I'm a freak and sooner or later, everybody's gonna leave me. You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me too. No explanation, nothing. Just 'whoosh' left me with your sorry ass._

And it was true… _then._ Dean's words again bombarding Sam's senses, reinforcing the hurts formed in Dean's childhood and illuminating his fears. Sam shook off the memories and the painful truths, he steadied his nerves and accepted the past, but this was _now._ He wasn't going anywhere, not now. "That was the past, everything's changed. I'm not going anywhere."

"No, maybe not, but Dean is. You know, Sammy, or at least you would if you ever pulled your head out of your ass and thought about it. Dean figured out a long time ago it's easier not to want anything, much less expect anything. He's certainly never going to _ask_ for anything. Less rejection that way. Gotta protect that tender heart of his, so fragile, ready to shatter under the weight of one more betrayal." Leviathan delighted to once again have the younger Winchester's full attention. The demon loved having the spotlight on him, being able to twist the truth to serve his needs. "The only ones ever capable of truly hurting big brother were you and Dad, and you both did a bang-up job of it. Man, the hurts just kept piling up until he couldn't even see the sunlight, buried under the crap his family laid on him."

Sam wasn't yet ready to roll over and admit defeat, the Winchester creed not allowing him to give in to any evil. "That's not true. Dad and I loved Dean, we'd never hurt him."

"Oh, really? Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we? What happened in Chicago? He finally broke down and told you what he wanted, his heart's desire, and what did you do? Stomp on his feelings and cut him loose like the pathetic loser he is. Was he really asking that much? But you said no. It always comes down to what Sammy wants. Sammy gets what Sammy wants and, like always, Dean simply backs off, slinks away to a corner and licks his wounds, like a feral cat, fearful of the next devastating blow. He lets Sammy have whatever he wants even if it breaks his own heart. After all, his heart hardly matters, now does it?"

Tears stung Sam's eyes, but his heart still fought for his brother, for _them_. "That's a lie."

"Oh, really? Same thing as when you went off to school, except he never even mustered the courage to ask you to stay then, did he? How could he? He knew you were selfish, that you were just looking out for number one. Safer not to ask than get kicked in the teeth. It's getting old, Sammy. Don't you think Dean's getting tired of the same old, same old?"

Sam exploded, "You don't KNOW Dean! You can't possibly understand someone like him. All you see is darkness and pain; you can't fathom someone like Dean who is giving and good. You don't know." Sam defiantly stared at the demon, good facing down evil; both intent on winning this battle of words in the search for the truth. Sam praying Dean's worth would win out in the end, relying on his brother's strength to see them through, despite their failings. The demon simply delighting in the game and the chance to slice through the hunter's innards and suck up his pain.

Leviathan dismissed Sam's rebuttal, continuing on his own path, trying to control the conversation to his own ends. "Sammy, it's just words… _fantasies_..; Of course, patterns always follow patterns, don't they? It wasn't the first time, was it? Remember when you took off on your own for California searching for Dad, deserting Dean and almost getting him killed? Refresh my memory… what did Dean have to say about the whole deal? That he was proud of you. Proud of his little brother… standing up to Dad, standing up for what you wanted, knowing what you wanted and going after it. Yeah, he said he was proud, but his heart resented you 'cause it all boils down to one thing… your wants are always most important and no one cares what Dean wants. You finally worked your magic, Sammy. It's been drummed into his head so many times now even _he_ doesn't care what Dean wants."

"He will," Sam defiantly responded. _He will! He will if I have any say in the matter. I'll get through to him, I will._

"It's too late. Don't you see, Sam? Dean finally figured it out. The truth is it's easier to leave than _be left_. That's why he made that deal. That's why he's the one walking into Hell, facing an eternity of suffering."

Leviathan smiled as he read the hunter's mind. _So close now… so very close. _The truth was now his ally. The closer he stayed to what Sam knew to be true the more he could manipulate the situation. He continued on, presenting his own version of the truth. "You see Dean as strong, brave and in control… and he is… _when_ he's in his element. Back in prison he fit right in, didn't he? Those big bruisers didn't intimidate him one iota 'cause he's a fighter and he's good… damn good. _Control,_ Sammy… as long as he's in control he's good… he can fucking handle anything. Take away that control and he turns into a sniveling, scared pussy ready to piss his pants."

Sam raised his head, his eyes tortured and sad as his gaze again fell on the demon.

"Whatcha think's gonna happen when the hellhounds drag him off to Hell? You can imagine what kind of control he'll have there, can't you, Sammy? He KNOWS what's waiting for him. Of course, he won't admit it, especially to you. Hell, he won't even admit it to himself. What are the five stages? Denial? Yeah, he's definitely in denial… BIG TIME!" Leviathan waited, letting the truth sink in, letting it fester and ferment, hoping the rancid smell would push the hunter past the brink and finally deliver all his tasty innards to the buffet. "Dean can't hide forever… Hell's a'waiting. Of course, he's gonna keep up the brave front. Can't let little Sammy see him scared now, can he? He never could. Especially since you're the reason he's taking this little vacation. It's all because of you and your inability to handle yourself. Big brother rushing in to save your ass and giving his ass over to… " A roar of laughter ripped from the demon's lips, his eyes watering from the overwhelming glee. "Well, you _know _what. Back to that old familiar terror. But that's Dean, isn't it? Ah, yes, big brother Dean. Like I said… no greater love."

Sam was shaking, his mind skittering about trying to find a glimmer of hope, a way out, an avoidance of the coming pain; but all hope was finally lost, buried under a ton of truths too horrendous to face. Dean's sacrifice and the final cost of his love and dedication too real to ignore. It all came back to his one true terror… losing his brother in one years time to Hell.

The demon raised his head, his eyes glimmering with unbridled joy and he smiled a huge, victorious grin like he'd just tainted a thousand lost souls and condemned them to an eternity in Hell. "My, my, if it isn't the main attraction. Decided to join our little party, I see. Sorry we didn't wait, but Sammy and I had a lot to discuss. You know, your fucked up life, the multitude of your sins… _the usual_."

Sam's heart jerked in a panic and everything seemed a blur as the totality of his conversations with the demon whirred past him in a rush of sounds and images and he felt the overwhelming crush of them pushing him off the cliff. His head spun from the tempest of emotions swirling about and his stomach dropped out from under him as he whipped around to where the demon was facing and his eyes locked with the sullen eyes of his brother. Everything froze for a moment before time proceeded in slow motion, his voice unable to offer any defense as his own pain paled in comparison to the devastation he saw sweep across Dean's face and consume those sensitive eyes. Eyes that had previously witnessed so much ugliness and pain, shattered eyes that were now overflowing with anger and hurt, the heart and soul of his brother crushed and bleeding out before him. This betrayal cutting Dean deep to his core; whatever faith he had managed to hold onto irreparably fractured by this last bitter act of treachery. Sam's gut constricted and he felt the fury of his brother, the blind rage as the hurt exploded.

"Goddammit, Sammy!"

TBC


	6. What Goes Around Comes Around

"_We are the enemy within, the enemy of all your wars, the enemy of all your betrayals, the enemy of all your lies."_ - Tony Blair

Chapter Six – What Goes Around Comes Around

There were a hundred noble reasons why Sam had listened to this evil demon's rantings and they all centered around helping his brother, understanding him, _saving_ him before this demon deal yanked Dean from his life and tossed him into Hell. His intentions were so very righteous and pure… at least that's what he told himself, but in this moment all that paled and Sam felt dirty and used. His skin crawled as the tendrils of dozens of lies snaked their way along his veins, pulsing and throbbing and threatening to break through to the surface laying out all his guilt in a bleeding mass of shame.

Every good thing he hoped to accomplish by letting this evil tell his lurid tales of Dean's life exploded in a burst of regret as he stared into the bewildered eyes of his brother. Those eyes revealing a tale all their own, free of any shadings or sick interpretations, basic and true in the glaring reality that this was disgusting; that it was a betrayal of the highest order, and it was anything but pure or right. It was sordid and unsavory and so very, very wrong and Sam knew it, had known it from the start. But he couldn't stop himself… or if he was being totally honest here, he chose not to stop it; instead willingly allowing this evil to defile his brother's good name and all the great deeds of his life, all in the desperate hope that some long-buried secret would be revealed and bring enlightenment into the inner workings of Dean's mind. Now looking deep into those sensitive eyes he saw this for what it truly was, a travesty that only succeeded in exposing his brother, ripping him open and laying out all his hurts and disappointments on the autopsy table to be weighed and cataloged. Not even allowing him the courtesy of dying before slicing into him for the post-mortem.

Sam had wanted to hear what Evil knew and damn the consequences. If he had to wade through all the gory intestines and bitter failings and sift through the horrific lies in his search for that elusive truth, then so be it. Sammy gets what Sammy wants. He thought the truth was worth it… _then._

Now as he stared into his brother's shattered eyes his gut clenched and his eyes watered and he only wanted to shrivel up and blow away. Just disappear into a dark corner, far from the hurt consuming Dean and not be forced to bear witness to the anguish his weakness and need had caused. This was all his fault and he knew it. He should have expected this ugly scenario would play out in the aftermath of his sick encounter with Evil, but lies have a nasty way of perverting the truth, even when you know deep down in the darkest dungeons of your soul the reality of what you are doing and the end result… especially when demons have their way.

_I never wanted __this__. _

_I never wanted to hurt __you__, Dean._

But he had hurt Dean; that was painfully obvious. Sam had no clue how long Dean had stood there listening, how many distasteful words he'd been subjected to, how many malicious lies filling his mind with all the sordid visions of unimaginable horrors. From the tortured hurt consuming Dean's face it was clear it'd been long enough, and whatever he hadn't actually heard by the voice of evil; well, the truth was, Dean _was_ smart, perfectly capable of piecing together how this little drama went down. How Leviathan would twist and pervert his life, his emotions, his fears and what few hopes or dreams he ever allowed himself to consider; condense the whole sum of his life down to the basest denominator and then defile it further until it was unrecognizable.

Dean stood silent, watching and listening, his expressive eyes darting from the demon still talking to his brother who stood with his mouth open unable to offer a sound in his defense, silently waiting to see what his big brother would do.

Sam was tense, on the razor's edge just waiting for the fury of Dean to lash out and assault him in a vitriolic barrage of angry words, with the promise of a real, physical confrontation more than a mere threat. He'd seen Dean explode over much less and this was totally warranted, and if he were to be even more honest with himself, desired. He had no real defense for his actions and he only wanted a reaction from Dean, _any_ reaction to prove he was still here, still present in this life and had not yet given up. Sam set his feet and awaited the coming blow, never expecting what transpired next.

Dean's shoulders tensed and he drew up into soldier alert status, his eyes seemed to close off, hidden again behind a resigned front while his mouth quirked up in a nervous grin, his dimples flashing as he finally spoke with a typical snarky response, "I see the slumber party's in full swing, you girls having fun?"

"Dean, look… "

One angry glance was all it took to silence Sam. That and the demon speaking, the cruel voice chilling, twisting his knife deeper into the Winchesters' wounds, "Dean, _Dean_, sorry you missed the best part. So _much_ gossip, not hardly enough time to devote to all your delightful sins, but we gave it the ol' college try. Right, Sammy?"

Dean scowled at the demon for a mere blink of a second before his face returned to a calm, controlled mask hiding his true thoughts and feelings, and then the strong façade was reinforced by the familiar determined smirk. "Yeah, about that… Sorry to interrupt." He turned to his brother, his piercing eyes and curt response cutting Sam to the core. "Playtime's over, Sam."

"Dean, please… "

"WHAT?" Dean's anger seemed to break free, his voice rising and his eyes flashing, rabid and fierce. "JUST DON'T… " His voice turned cold and deliberate, barely above a whisper as he rebuked his brother, "What the _hell _were you thinking?"

"Dean… "

Dean switched back and forth from explosive anger to controlled seething, almost like he couldn't moderate his responses. His anger trying to break free, while his control struggled to maintain an equilibrium. "NO, Sam. I don't want to hear it… ANY OF IT!"

Dean started to shake as the battle wore on, subtle at first, just a twitch of his jaw before a tremor shuddered through him from a deep chill as if he'd been thrust into the frigid depths of the Antarctic. Most wouldn't even notice, or if they did would simply dismiss it as a someone-just-walked-across-my-grave shiver. At first Sam couldn't understand what he was witnessing. He'd never seen Dean even remotely this affected while on a hunt and here they were in the midst of perhaps their biggest hunt ever, six powerful demons circling, ready to attack come nightfall. Throughout his life even when facing down the most savage creatures of the supernatural world Dean was always steady and sure, conditioned to hold back his emotions and focus on doing the job, whatever that entailed; never letting his own fears or doubts cause him any hesitation, always the soldier ready to wage war, the strong façade fixed and impenetrable. A supernatural warrior locked and loaded.

Dean's broad shoulders heaved out one huge shudder then settled back down, just faint rippling aftershocks remaining. Before he could progress any further, either to a total meltdown or an explosive rage, Bobby appeared behind him and firmly gripped his shoulders, offering a strong clasp with fingers pressing in just tight enough to be felt, to register and compete with all his simmering emotions.

Bobby's gruff voice centered the hunter, placing him back on the front lines in this demon war, his duty clear. "Dean, we need to set the salt."

That was all Dean needed to flip the switch on his anger, his eyes flickering down to the floor and blinking several times. From the distance Sam couldn't tell if there were tears or not, but it felt like all the deep emotion was lodged just beneath the surface waiting for permission to break free. Dean's hunter resolve shoving it down before it had the chance to explode, a real threat lingering ominously just beyond reach. His eyes rose and looked straight through his brother, slicing deep, twisting and gouging, burning like acid, finally bringing all Sam's insides to the outside… just like the demon had wanted. Dean's low voice rough and deadly, "Sam, y'think you can drag yourself away from your entertainment to lay down some salt?"

Leviathan smiled as he watched the brothers, delighting in the raw emotions sparking between the siblings, the electricity and tension in the room just beyond his reach as the little scene playing out before his eager eyes like a tragic Shakespearean play. His eyes glimmered and his lips turned up in a contented grin, finding immense joy from this happy turn of events. _Oh, so very tasty, my boys! This is more delicious than I ever could have imagined. Bravo! Bravo!_

Sam tried to clear the lump in his throat, tried to utter a response, but Dean was already turning away. Bobby offering him his own warning gaze. _Not now, Sam. Haven't you done enough?_

Sam felt his own emotions rippling through his body, turning what resolve and sure-thinking he thought he'd found sideways, and he felt himself falling into uncertainty and remorse, wondering how he'd ever let this progress to this point. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he turned to follow his brother and the demon spoke, his voice filled with an evil satisfaction, "We having fun now, Sammy?" Sam gave the demon a quick sideward glance and the thing winked at the hunter as his words gouged into his guts, the knife twisting and cutting deeper than ever before. "I finally got my hero sandwich. Cheers!"

The last bit of holy water Sam had was tossed in Evil's face and he howled in anguish as the steam rolled off of him. He shook off the water and raised his coal black eyes. The hunters had already left the room as Evil licked his lips and contentedly smiled.

--

It was almost like a super-juiced magnet drew him back to the evil beneath the devil's trap. Almost like the demon did have some supernatural control over humans without even touching them, some mojo he put on you and made you do things you'd never consider doing in a rational moment. Dean knew that was a lie, merely a ready excuse. He knew he was back for one reason and one reason only, curiosity fueled by need. This demon didn't control him, didn't force him to face off against evil anymore than he had forced Sam. Dean justified it in his own mind since at least he wasn't pumping the bastard for lies and secrets about his kid brother. He'd never do that to Sammy, but then again… Sam did a lot of things Dean never had any desire to do… or if we're to continue being totally honest, Sam did things that Dean never _allowed_ himself to do. Self-control and duty forever the basis for all big brother's actions.

Then again, if we're stuck on this truth kick, Dean had made mistakes too, done things he wished he could take back… things he never wanted Sammy to know about… _ever._

"So, what lies did you tell Sam?"

"Lies? Come now, Dean… you know better."

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TELL HIM?"

"Nothing… " Evil's lips turned up in a sick smile. "_Everything_."

"Quit screwing around! JUST WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?"

"Everything you never wanted him to know… all the secrets, the fears, the twisted machinations of your impossibly screwed up head." Leviathan was again rolling his tongue out to wet his lips, his black eyes flickering back to an evil shade of grey-green and shimmering with delight. "What? You thought I'd protect you? Keep your sordid, little secrets? Haven't they been buried long enough? Did you _really _think they died with Dad? Or perhaps you thought the slate would be erased when you took your little vacation to Hell? Just wiped clean so little Sammy would always have his big, brave, protective, hero of a brother to hold dear in his memories?" His tongue slipped out of his mouth and flicked against his bottom lip as his grin deepened. "Really, Dean, you think the odious actions of the past are that easy to ignore? Or forgive? Out of sight, out of mind?"

"You sonuvabitch!"

"I think your brother already covered that."

Dean shifted, his fury going inward, momentarily buried as he forced himself to settle down, stoically approaching the demon and firmly asking, "_What_ did you tell him?"

"Oh, we covered it all… " Leviathan smiled and his eyes gleamed. "So many sins, so little time… the women and the insatiable lust… the never-ending hunger and the gluttony, the pitifully low self-esteem, your complete and total lack of pride or self-worth. Then we got into the good stuff… the envy and desires, how you resent your brother and all the goodies he got while you got stuck paying the bill. You know, Dean… all the things you hide from yourself and the world. All the truths of your fucked up life."

Dean shook his head and tilted it down, his eyes looking up with an intense glare and then he smiled. "Just what I thought… LIES! Sounds like that just about covers it."

"Not hardly… that was only the beginning of our scrumptious feast."

Dean intently watched, his shoulders starting to tense. "So…, don't keep me waiting. What other lies you got?"

"No, I would never want to keep you waiting. You've waited long enough, haven't you, Dean? You've waited your entire life to feel wanted, needed… _loved_. You're still that scared little boy trembling in the dark, aren't you, Dean?"

"Just shut the hell up!"

"Dean, Dean… so tragic. You know the hardest part for Sam was when we discussed your little appointment in a year. Won't be waiting much longer for that, now, will we? He really didn't want to picture your welcome-home party. Guess since he's not invited to that little soiree he's feeling a tad left-out."

Dean quirked his head to the side and smiled. "Right… So… you goin' to answer the question, or play games all night?"

"I like to play games… how 'bout you, Dean? You like to play?"

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. "God, just get on with it."

"What? Hell? You want to know what it's like?"

"No, bitch. I got the gist of it. What is it they say? Hell is Hell… I think I got it."

"Just look at you. So brave and bold. You're not scared?"

Dean looked at the demon with a firm resolve. "Course not."

"Course not… yes, you Winchesters. So very brave and true, aren't you? Just like big Daddy. You _are_ so well trained; just the answer John would expect from his boy… his _soldier_. So, Dean, tell me… would Daddy be proud of his boy?"

Dean arched his brows, his eyes fixed on the demon but his heart stirred as he thought of Dad and how his deal echoed the deal his dad made and all the pain that had brought. He offered up his best casual response, feigning nonchalance. "Wouldn't know. Hate to say it, but the conversation must have gotten a little strained there… not that much to talk about, was there?"

"Dean, Dean… there goes that lack of self-worth again. You're more fascinating than you think. Yes, indeedy, quite the memorable man of the hour."

"Man of the hour, huh? You _do_ know me." Dean brazenly smirked, trying to hold on to any sense of control he could grasp hold of. "Yeah, I bet it was just fascinating stuff."

"You'd win, y'know? Especially once we got into the juicy, gooey innards."

Dean was casually strolling about the demon, stopping to arch his brows and ask, "Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

"You know, Dean. How you'd do _anything_ to protect your family. All you gave up for them… for little Sammy." Evil's eyes shone with a dark light. "All the sacrifices."

"Really? And what was that again?" Dean continued pacing around the demon, the steady motion helping to calm him as his heart started thumping louder in his chest. "Don't keep me waiting now. You got somethin' you wanna say, might as well just say it."

"Oh, I think we'll hold off for a bit, you know what they say about anticipation." Leviathan sweetly smiled, like your best friend planning a secret party for you, not wanting to spoil the moment, delighting in the surprised look you'll have on your face when they throw open the doors and everyone jumps out with party hats on and the confetti rains down.

The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood at full alert as he observed the demon playing his sick games.

The demon continued, shifting the conversation slightly, "Now, _Dean. _Anything _you'd_ like to know before you shuffle off this planet? You wanna know Sammy's secrets? His darkest desires? I'm only here to serve."

"Yeah, 'cause you're so noble."

"True," Evil snickered as he leaned forward. "If I were you, I wouldn't pass up this golden opportunity… A once in a lifetime ticket to the Sammy show."

"Yeah, right, 'cause Sam has so many secrets. What? Like he sneaks a look at porn when no ones watching? Or how about he once lied about the dog eating his homework, 'cause the truth was he didn't have time to do it 'cause he spent the night stitching up Dad and me after a hunt gone bad?" Dean found his rhythm and was in full-on cocky mode, the swagger in his walk, the smirk on his lips, the confidence shining in his eyes. His voice was mocking, displaying every bold response he could muster. "Oh, wait, I've got a good one, how about he still wants a normal life? That always plays big in Baltimore."

"Always with the smartass remarks. Just a cover, Dean… I know what's _really_ going on in there… down deep, buried under all your cocky shtick. Remember, I _know _things."

"You don't know crap."

"Fine."

"Fine! Guess it's time to send you packin'."

"Typical bravado. You always did try to run from the truth. How's that workin' for ya?"

"Me? I'm good," Dean smartly replied before he leaned in to taunt the demon with a grin. "Remember, you're the one who's all tied up."

"True… _now. _I was actually thinking more about back _then_." His lips curled up in a malicious grin. "Remember, Dean?"

Dean immediately tensed, his shoulders locking into formation alert as he studied the demon. He tried to shake off the feeling but it was gripping tight, digging deep into his memories, dark places he hadn't ventured near in years. He fought to maintain his control, his growing apprehension hidden behind annoyance as he towered over the demon, refusing to surrender to this evil. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Do you _really_ want to know what little Sammy and I discussed?"

"I asked, didn't I?" Dean defiantly responded.

"Yes, you did. But it's not really your style is it? To face the ugly truth… aren't you more the kind to bury it deep and pretend it never happened? Just plaster on the cocky Dean-face and smile away your troubles?" Leviathan licked his lips, slowly drawing his tongue across the bottom lip as his eyes shimmered with a sinister glow. "Sammy and I… we had a lot of time and a lot of issues to cover. You've certainly led… what shall I say? A very _colorful_ life. Haven't you, Dean?"

"Just shut up." Dean wiped his hand down his face, his hands tense but his face still appearing solid, only his flickering eyes allowing any pain to break through the bold facade.

"You wanted it, _boy._ Now you best listen." Dean glared at the demon but fell silent, his eyes conveying his contempt. The demon smiled as he continued, "I'd say blue is definitely your color, as in a bit off-color… but also there's that underlying depression of yours. Nasty business living with all those disappointments and hurts, isn't it? All that overwhelming terror. Then there's always red for all the blood and guts and how you see the world when you get all fired up. Quite the anger management problem at times, huh, Dean? But I guess all you Winchesters have a bit of wrath in you. Let's see then, what else do we have?" The demon paused for effect, drawing out his little game, savoring the moment. "Oh, yes indeedy, how about we throw in all those little white lies you tell yourself. You know, Dean… that you're strong and brave and not that scared, little kid pissing his shorts when the big bad comes to call." Evil laughed, his eyes filled with malice. "Or were you doing something else in your shorts?" Dean glared at him and the demon simply smiled. "Well, anyhoo… where were we? Ah, yes, red, white and blue… Guess that makes you Mr. America now, doesn't it, Dean-O?"

Dean took a moment to gather his courage, the trembling of his gut persistent and troubling, but he was used to feeling uneasy, used to shoving it all down and pushing forward. He grunted his disgust toward the demon, relying on his familiar cocky response. "God, could you be any lamer?"

"I try."

Dean offered his standard sure grin. "Bang up job you're doing there, Chuckles."

"I certainly got Sammy's attention."

"I bet."

"I could offer you the same. Tell you all of little Sammy's secrets, reveal his darkest thoughts. Illuminate the workings of his intricate mind."

"I'll pass."

"Really?" Leviathan was chewing on his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and gnawing on it. He smiled as he bit down, blood filling his mouth, his tongue swirling it around, painting his lips a vivid red before sucking it down in a lusty slurp. "I must say I'm surprised. Most jump at the chance. Can I ask why?"

"I sure as hell don't need _you_ to know my brother," Dean snarled. He settled back and observed the demon, watched him plotting against him. He knew what his game was, he'd been taunted by demons before and he'd never been tempted to listen to their lies. Not once. Even when it was his own brother sitting before him spewing forth lies that may have sounded like they were spoken in Sam's voice, but he'd known not to listen, not to believe; that evil bitch, Meg, trying to destroy him with untruths.

When his dad had been possessed the words had hurt, he couldn't deny it, but he'd gotten past it. He had. Most of his pain then was the feeling of defeat, that he'd failed Sam and Dad, that it would soon be over and he was helpless to stop it. The worst feeling in the world was feeling helpless and vulnerable. Dean hated feeling that way, had ever since that night. _God, what the hell is that? Don't you go there… don't you do that._

Dean turned away from the Demon and squared off his shoulders. He looked to the ceiling and sought out the strength he'd always relied on, that inner core of tempered steel that allowed him to keep going when his body and soul were ready to crumble. He knew not to ever trust a demon or believe in their lies. Dad had taught them that, schooled them their whole lives in the ways of evil. _What the hell was Sam thinking? _He called upon that steel resolve and all his smartass attitude to show this evil sonuvabitch that the Winchesters were not susceptible to his demon lies, regardless of what Sam had done. He waged his own battle in his head, all his training telling him he should just exorcise the bastard but he had a point to make… to the demon, to himself, but most especially to his brother. He turned to face off against Evil and addressed him in a stone-cold voice, "I've known Sam his whole life. There's _nothing_ you could possibly say about by brother that I don't already know."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he confidently snapped back.

"So, tell me, Dean… why do you suppose _he_ felt the need to chat? Are you not so open? Have you spent your life hiding from your brother? Only letting him see your strengths, hiding who you _really_ are? The sordid truths of your life?" Leviathan sat back contentedly watching the hunter, smiling silently to himself. "Hate to burst your bubble here, Dean, but there's nowhere to hide. Sammy got a nice clear picture of his fucked up brother."

_I've got you now, boy! I own you. You're not a hunter… not anymore… You're still that little boy… that terrified, little boy waiting for the truth to strip you naked!_

Dean stood still, his insides trembling, but he wasn't going to give this bastard the satisfaction. His face was a solid block of calm, no emotion able to crack the impenetrable façade. His eyes studied the demon, searching for any small weakness, any perceptible chink in his demon armor, but all he saw was strength and resolve. It might have scared a lesser man, but it only made Dean angry and more determined than ever to burrow down deeper into his own reservoir of whatever strength and courage had allowed him to keep going for this long. He would not go quietly into that still night; he was ready to attack head on. It's how his dad raised him, to keep fighting against impossible odds, to be that warrior his family expected… to never give up.

"Sam may have listened, but that don't mean he believed a word of your lies. We know your kind. We know what your game is."

"Yes, your daddy raised you right." He smiled, almost like he knew that was a direct quote, almost like he did have inside information… _but that's ridiculous, he may be a demon, but he's not God. He's a lying bastard._

"You're grasping at straws, bitch. You got nothin'… nothin' but lies." Dean was smug and sure, his dimples bold above his cocky grin, his eyes shining with deep satisfaction.

"That's right, Dean, show me 'the smile'. It don't fool _me _of course, I can smell the worry and the fear… I can taste it in the air, so succulent and sweet, so very delectable." Leviathan sucked in the air and smacked his lips, his eyes shining with delight.

"You don't know crap."

"Just keep telling yourself that, _boy_… but then, you always did know how to lie to yourself, didn't you? By now you must be an expert."

Dean smirked as he circled around the demon, leaning in and whispering into his ear as he walked behind him. "As good as you, buddy-boy."

"Not quite. But you must hold on to your illusions. I understand that. It must have been so very hard dealing with everything… and at such a tender age. Poor, little Dean, trying so hard to be the man in the family… taking care of Sammy, taking care of Dad… sacrificing _everything_ to keep them safe, fed, warm."

Dean growled, low and threatening, "Just shut up." Dean felt his grip on control slipping, this demon somehow digging into his deepest thoughts like some carnie soothsayer. Just the sly look Evil gave him making his skin crawl and rattling his already tense nerves.

"What, Dean? You don't want to talk about _that_ night?"

Dean swallowed, wanting to bail on this conversation, wanting to turn and walk away, wanting to run away, drive off down the highway and let the wind through the open windows set him free, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. Not this time. It was too late for that. Sam was foremost in his mind, what he heard, what he now knew… what he might believe. He still couldn't accept this demon knew anything beyond innuendo and lies, fabrications designed to hurt them. His mind told him that familiar, desperate lie while his heart braced for the truth. His head nervously shirked to the side, his eyes fixed, cold and steady, the direct opposite of his heart that was racing wildly and thumping against his ribcage. "Yeah? And what night would that be?" He offered his best smirk. "Been so many, y'know?"

"You know, _pretty boy_… the night the cat came out to play." The words rolled off the demon's tongue, his eyes filled with lust and malice and every dark emotion the world had ever seen. His lips turned up in a sick, twisted grin like the painted Joker smirk in all those Batman movies. _"_You always were a nasty boy… " His obsidian black eyes glimmered at Dean's reaction while his low voice purred, "_Meow… "_

_God, no… no way… he couldn't possibly know._

Dean froze and in an instant he was back _then, _back _there_… in that room_. _His head ached, and his heart was beating so furiously he thought it might burst, and every strong fiber in his being melted away leaving the scared child, alone and desperate, trembling from the shame. He wanted to throw up like he had so many times back then, his stomach wrenching and twisting inside out as all the blood rushed from his body and he felt a clammy panic hit his system. He staggered back a step and bumped into Bobby who turned him and griped him tight on his upper arms, patting him and giving him a slight shake with his voice breaking through the terror, rough and real and familiar. _Comforting._

"Dean, you with us?"

Dean jerked his gaze from the evil presence trying to destroy him and locked eyes with his friend. Bobby had a way of looking at you like he could see right through you, like he knew your deepest thoughts, could see your greatest regrets, and feel your true terrors, just like the demon was trying to do; but with Bobby it was different, it was warm and safe 'cause Bobby saw you and all your weaknesses and still wanted to have you by his side, still wanted to hold you and protect you and be your friend.

It was _Bobby _and in that moment that was all Dean needed to snap out of it.

Bobby's eyes fixed on him and his raspy voice broke through the still, "Dean, c'mon, you with me?"

Dean blinked back the terror; the last shudder running through him before he buried it back down, his eyes grabbing hold of Bobby's to anchor him. His hand reached out to Bobby's forearm and gripped tight. Bobby's slight smile and a job to focus on all he needed now.

"Yeah, Bobby, I'm with ya." He cleared his throat and offered a hesitant smile, his dimples flashing as he breathed steady. "What'cha need?"

"Here, finish laying the salt around the back and then we'll see what we got."

Dean grabbed hold of the bag of salt and turned his back on the demon, not even offering a parting glance. Evil could wait, he wasn't going anywhere. They had work to do.

--

All his terrors and worries were again buried, not nearly as deep as before, but enough so he could do his job. His mind only had room for the job right now; killing the seven deadly sins, surviving the night, saving all the innocents that would suffer if these devils were still free by morning to continue their reign of terror. It was the only thing he had to hold firm to, the only thing that made his own pain bearable, the only course he had to keep moving forward. He solemnly went about doing the job.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

He never looked up. "Stow it, Sam. I'm not in the mood." Dean continued laying the salt at the back door of the house, focusing on getting the line perfect, solid and strong, unbreakable. It became more difficult as his hands started to shake, but he managed, finishing up the line and throwing the empty bag to the floor. With his hands now empty, this job done, he had no choice but to turn and face his brother, his nails digging into his palms to still the tremors as he formed fists clenched at his sides.

"Dean, _please_… "

"WHAT? Forgive you? Understand?" Dean pushed past Sam, heading for the hallway before he stopped; he stood silent for a moment before he turned to face him. "I told you to exorcise him… Sam, I _begged _you. You lied to me. You went behind my back and you lied. You listened to all the nasty lies that evil sonuvabitch had to tell." Dean was so angry the veins in his neck were standing out, his eyes wild like an animal poised to spring forth in a death leap. His bottom lip trembling from the restraint he was showing, all fury contained behind that strong, impenetrable façade as he firmly spoke to his brother, his voice filled with real, caustic anger. His eyes the only glimpse inside at the turmoil whirling about allowing his pain to be seen, haunted and dark.

Sam shifted and stepped forward, his eyes pleading for whatever morsel of forgiveness his brother might offer, that Dean had always allowed him in the past. "Dean, I didn't mean… "

Dean took a step back, away from his brother, determined to keep a safe distance between them. A part of him scared of what he might do if Sam continued to push. "Yeah, Sam, YOU DID. Just admit it. You _wanted_ to hear all the gory details." Dean looked to the ground and shook his head, his eyes finally rising to lock in hurt with Sam's. "You get your jollies? You have your fill? 'Cause maybe I could make up some more sordid tales. Huh? You want me to add to the nasty picture? I mean, it's not like it has to be true, right?" Dean quirked his brows and smirked, his dimples nervously flashing above his twisted grin. "You hear enough to get your rocks off? Huh, Sammy?"

"WHAT? God, no, Dean, it wasn't like that," Sam gasped out.

"Oh? So how was it? You really think a demon would tell you anything of value? Are you that stupid? Are you that desperate to hear some nasty gossip?" Dean laughed trying to deny the hurt in his eyes, tears forming while his bottom lip trembled. "Lies, Sammy… it's all lies and who cares? Not me, I mean, you don't think I've never heard 'em before? Why the hell would I care what some demon has to say about me? But _you?"_ He nodded his head slightly up and down in anger before he again locked eyes with his brother. "_You?_ I expected better… God, Sam, I never expected you'd believe _those_ lies."

"Dean, I didn't. I just needed to know… "

"_What?_ What some evil sonuvabitch demon has to say?" Dean's voice was so angry and low it was difficult to hear him. Almost like the more he hurt the softer he went, retreating in on himself. "Why would you?" Dean started to walk away before he turned and softly added, "How could you?"

"Dean, I just… I didn't…" Sam was stumbling around, trying to justify his actions when he knew in his heart there was no justification. Still he couldn't just admit that. Maybe it was the Winchester pride, maybe his own stubborn streak, maybe he knew there was still that sliver of truth and this was all a diversion to keep him from following through and uncovering the truth Dean had tried to hide all these years.

All control vanished as Dean's anger lashed out, harsh and unyielding. "WHAT? Have control? He touch you? Is that it? He put the whammy on you and force you to listen? Tell me you couldn't turn away… tell me you had no choice in the matter."

Sam finally got the vitriolic rage he'd been hoping for. The anger was fierce but also defensive, his brother's eyes displaying all the hurt behind the words.

"No, he didn't put the whammy on me… I could have stopped this, but Dean… I just needed to know the truth. Please, just.. tell.. me.. the.. truth.."

"The truth, huh?" Dean chuckled, his dimples flashing above a nervous smirk. "The truth… how about I'm your brother and you should trust me? How about it's MY life… damnit! Whatever that life is and it's none of your damn business!"

"So something _did _happen? Why are you so scared to tell me?"

"I told you, Sammy. It's lies. _Nothing_ happened. Whatever that damn demon told you… it's a lie. You hear me? A LIE!"

Sam's eyes were tender and pleading, trying to read his brother and decipher the truth by any means possible as he softly asked, "What do you think he told me?"

Dean looked to the ceiling and then to the floor before finally casting his eyes on his brother. Eyes filled with determination and a steel resolve, the façade again locked down into place. "I don't CARE what he told you. Sammy, I'm not doing this… YOU HEAR ME?"

"Dean, please… I'm sorry."

"Yeah? Tell it to someone who cares." Dean looked straight through him then. "I'm done with it." Dean turned and walked through the doorway leaving his brother behind.

--

Sam was alone, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. He was losing Dean, losing him long before his demon deal came due. His brother was right here, in the same house, and yet he wasn't. Sam couldn't remember ever having Dean turn away from him like that, except maybe when Dad died. Dean had done the same thing then, attacked him with hurtful words, yelling that he was putting his issues on him; that he was the one with the problem and Dean was fine. Sam hadn't backed off; he'd stuck to his guns and proven his point, pushing his brother to talk to him and share his thoughts. Dean wasn't fine… far from it, and he had finally revealed the truth. After much prodding and begging, he had opened up by the side of the road and told his brother what he was feeling and it had hurt to witness it, but it also ultimately brought them closer as brothers. This was shaping up the same way. He just needed to stay strong and not let Dean's denial sway him from that truth.

"Sam, you got a sec?"

"Sure, Bobby." Sam turned but as soon as he faced his old friend he could see it in his eyes, the judgment, the total contempt. "Look, Bobby, if you're gonna read me the riot act, I'm not really in the mood."

"Tough." Bobby moved between Sam and the doorway, blocking his exit. "Seems you had plenty of time before… or you telling me that was demon time and you ain't got room for family time?"

Sam eased up to his full height with his shoulders pulled back, his mouth set in a thin line. He was worn out, his confrontation with the demon stripping his energy and then facing off against Dean only added to his exhaustion. "Bobby, I've already heard it from Dean, I don't need… "

"I don't see any bruises so obviously Dean hasn't had his full say yet." Bobby grimaced as he leaned in grabbing hold of the front of Sam's shirt and yanking him forward and down, staring straight into his eyes. "What the hell were you thinkin'? We don't have enough shit comin' down on us here?"

"Bobby… "

"I can't believe you, boy. You best friends with stupid all of a sudden?"

"Bobby, I had to do something." Sam's voice rose along with his frustration, his anger flaring. "You're the one who told me I wasn't gonna break Dean free of his demon deal with anything I'd find in a book. What am I s'possed to do?"

"I ought to throttle you! You think listenin' to THAT is gonna help?" Bobby motioned toward the demon with his head, his eyes fierce and furious, his voice like gravel. "You really think a demon is gonna tell you _anything_ that's of use? Demon's lie, Sam!"

Sam obstinately shook his head, his eyes pleading. "But sometimes they tell the truth. Don't they? Bobby, I can't just do nothing."

"SO YOU DO THIS? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Bobby, please… I thought _you'd_ understand. You know Dean. He's not talking and I just needed to know."

"KNOW WHAT? Dean's given you everything he's ever had and you go and do _this?"_ Bobby was shaking his head, his eyes starting to tear up. "Sam, didn't you know what this would do to Dean? He don't trust many, but he trusts you. And then you go and do somethin' like this?"

"Bobby, it's not like that… please. Dean has secrets, I know it now… I remember some of it; I just can't piece it together."

"Sam, you let it be, you hear me?" Bobby gave him one more shake and released him, pushing him away in disgust.

Sam staggered back, his eyes wide in shock as the realization hit. "You know?"

"Sam, drop it, I'm telling you."

"Bobby, if there's something Dean's afraid to tell me, please, just tell me. I won't judge him. I just want to help."

"You wanna help?" Bobby leaned in again, his face almost in Sam's. "Don't go digging into the past, son. No good will come of it. It's over and you're only gonna hurt him to dig it all up again, you hear me?"

"No, Bobby… Dean's dying and I just want to know him. I _need _to know him. Please, Bobby."

"Know him? Sam, you two have been together most your lives. You're closer than any two brothers I've ever known. You're all he's got. What do you think you've been doing the past two years? Dean's let you in more than he's ever let _anyone_. That had better be enough, you hear me?" Bobby's voice turned deliberate and cold, the threat real. "You leave it or you're gonna lose him sooner than you think."

"Bobby, please."

"No, Sam. You really stepped in it this time. You're on your own. You're gonna have to fix this with your brother… if you can."

--

There was still work to be done, salt to lay, holy water to fill up the many bottles they'd accumulated… all work that Bobby and Sam were busy doing. It wasn't as if he was shirking his responsibilities, Dean Winchester never shied away from responsibility regardless of what his little brother sometimes implied. He might slough off the research, but only when he knew Sam had it well in hand and besides there had to be some perk to being the older brother. He certainly had enough other responsibilities to balance the scales, pressures Sam had never even imagined, let alone acknowledged. Besides, he pulled his fair share by keeping the car running and the weapons cleaned and ready. He did most of the driving, which still counts even if driving the open road was one of the few passions he'd been allowed to pursue in this life. He still couldn't believe he actually let Sam drive his baby after the accident, but then again, the car would soon be Sam's, no denying that.

No denying a lot of things, even though he'd tried over the years… It almost worked too. For weeks or sometimes even months at a time it did work when his mind was filled with taking care of Sammy and Dad, making sure the car was running smooth, that the weapons were stowed properly and were ready for the next hunt. When he was immersed in a hunt his mind was most often free of the pain, too consumed with staying alive and protecting his loved ones to remember. A tired mind doesn't have time to dwell on the past.

There were still rare moments that cropped up when least expected when a subtle move or certain words triggered the thoughts and dug up the nightmare, refusing to allow him any peace, hurling him back to a time he never wanted to revisit. Those moments came less and less as the years passed until he almost convinced himself it never happened. Sometimes he actually got to a time and place when he did forget, the reality buried so deep that his mind played that little trick on him and he almost believed he wasn't damaged goods. It never lasted long. Whenever his tough, strong façade got too sure-headed it seemed like some stealthy evil sought to do him in, insuring he'd never forget who he really was… _what_ he was.

That's when the truth of his sordid life had an ugly way of reminding him of past sins.

When it became impossible to forget he used whatever means he could grab hold of to push the terrors away, be it a willing woman or a full bottle, or on really bad nights, both. He'd always acted cavalier about his carousing, side-stepping the concerned looks of his brother with a cocky smirk and ready quip, never wanting Sam to understand the whys of it beyond the obvious pleasures of the flesh. Never wanting Sam to know the truth of his nightmares; that they were based in fact, that he knew firsthand what evil lurked in the heart of man.

He'd gazed into the eyes of pure evil when he was only thirteen, a child by most men's standards, but he never accepted that. He stopped being a child at four when his dad placed his baby brother in his arms. _Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean, go. _The purpose of his life set that night: protect Sammy, take care of your brother by whatever means necessary. That other night nine years later simply reinforcing his sense of duty and reaffirming the loss of his innocence.

More than half a lifetime away from that nightmare and here he was approaching pure evil again, except now he was full grown and he had the upper hand; and this was a demon, and you expect evil in a demon. He'd survived then; he could surely handle one trussed up demonic sonuvabitch. What's the worse that could possibly happen? Certainly not anywhere near the horror of that boy facing down evil for the first time in his life. Still, his heart trembled as he again stared into the dark eyes of evil.

"Dean, _Dean… _back so soon? See how tempting it is? You're not going to hold our little conversation against Sam, now, are you? He's counting on you forgiving him. I mean, isn't that what you do? Watch out for your little brother? Protect him? Forgive him? Sacrifice _everything_ for him?"

"I told you before, I'm not going to discuss Sam. Not with you."

"You are so very noble… _sometimes_." Evil smiled, sweet and looking so concerned, so caring and tender, a vapid teenage girl pretending she's your new bestest friend before twisting the knife in your back and telling the entire school all your dirty, little secrets. "So why are you here? You still wondering how much I told little Sammy? How much he believed? Dean, _son_… secrets always have a way of bubbling back up to the surface, most especially such a tasty nugget of debauchery as this."

"Don't you dare call me son, you bitch."

"My, my… you two are brothers, aren't you? So much alike, except he got to keep his innocence, didn't he? You saw to that. Sweet, innocent, little Sammy… so different from his big brother, eh?"

Dean was nervously circling the demon, wrestling with his own conscience on why he was back here, confronting evil in this sick, twisted game instead of exorcising him back to Hell. Once all those old feelings were stirred up, they refused to settle back down. All the thoughts and memories were right there taunting him, making his skin crawl. The demon was right about one thing, he did want to hide, tell himself all the familiar lies that it never happened, that it was in the past and didn't matter, that he survived and moved on. _Oh, god, how I wish I could believe that._ All he had left now was to prove to this bastard that he was above it all, that it couldn't touch him, not anymore… not after all these years. He had to prove that to this piece of shit evil even if he knew it was all a lie. He refused to surrender any satisfaction to this damn demon. "Sam may have listened, but that don't mean he believed a word of it."

"Ah, but he didn't have to believe me. You forget, Dean, he was there. He may have been just a kid. What? Eight? Nine? But he saw and heard more than you know. He just needed a little nudge to dig out the memories." Leviathan smiled, his shiny white teeth glistening in the light from the setting sun beaming in through the window. He appeared self-satisfied and smug. "That _is_ what I do… _nudge._ Gotta give him this though, he was a tough nut to crack. Still holding on to that hero-worship. Too bad little brothers have to grow up, huh, Dean? So sad… tragic actually… when they finally see the truth, the fucked up mess of a truth."

"You're lying… he didn't believe you…" He cleared his throat and rasped out, "Not Sammy." Dean's eyes were sad, hurt, frantically looking for salvation and hope. False or otherwise, something to grasp hold of and cling to, some desperate belief that Sammy still didn't know, wouldn't figure it out. That he'd never have his brother look at him like _that_. Like _Dad _did… or _Bobby_… with pity and disgust.

"Guess he's just like big brother. He buried the truth down too, couldn't bear to think of his hero in those terms or maybe his childlike mind couldn't grasp the reality. Anyhoo, all it took was a slight push to open up that door and your Sammy walked right through. Just like a newborn he finally opened his eyes to the shadows of the night. Finally listened to the murmurs locked deep in his mind, tapping against his consciousness demanding to be heard. He finally paid attention to the screams from your nightmares." Leviathan smiled at the anguish he saw consuming the hunter's face, his victory almost complete. "It didn't take much for him to see the light… the truth of what you'd done… what you really are."

"Yeah? And what would that be?" Dean defiantly asked, his arms crossed and wrapped around his chest, his fingers subtly digging into his sides.

"That you're a nasty boy." The demon leaned forward as much as his bindings would allow, growling out seductively, "You _liked_ it, didn't you?"

"Shut the hell up!"

"Now, now, still such a _pretty boy_… so desirable. You know, I wouldn't mind a piece of that. How about it? You ready to play?"

Dean's eyes flashed as he splashed holy water across the demon's face. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

After the steam cleared the demon looked up, black eyes vacant and empty before blinking back to that cold, grey-green. His lips curled up into his most lascivious grin, his deviant joy plainly evident. "Hide all you want, Dean. But I gotta say, the look on little Sammy's face when he realized what it all meant… more than worth the price of admittance.

"Worth going back to Hell? 'Cause that's where you're going."

"At least I managed to get out of hell. You… you've been stuck there all these years, haven't you? You still get the nightmares? The cold shakes? How many times can you retch and throw up your supper? Tell me, did you ever get Daddy to look at you again without being disgusted by what a slut you were?" That evil tongue rolled out sweeping across his lips as they curled up into a sick smirk. "Daddy must have been so very disappointed. Here he thought he raised a warrior and instead all he got was a cheap whore."

TBC

_I apologize for taking so long to update. This story is a bear to write and I am struggling with it. It will be finished, but I am still trying to determine the best course. Reviews would be lovely if you are so inclined. Take care, B.J._


	7. You Can Run But You Can't Hide

"_Betrayal is the only truth that sticks."_ - Arthur Miller

Chapter Seven - You Can Run But You Can't Hide

"So, Sammy, where'd your _pretty boy_ brother go? He hiding? Pretending again?" Evil smirked and raised his brows, his voice slick like the slimy snake he was, again taunting and twisting what few facts he might be privy to and distorting them into something obscene and ugly, _so not like Dean._ "But, Sammy… it is _soooo_ _like Dean_."

Sam looked up, the features of his face twisted in shock and disbelief… _How can this demon know my thoughts? Know just what to say? How __does__ he know the past… the secrets?_

The demon continued on. "Don't be such a girl, hiding from the truth." He laughed, delighting in the pained expression on Sam's face. "Go ahead and spread 'em, sweetheart. Just open wide." He smirked and winked. "It only hurts for a second. Just a slight burn of the truth, then it will all be better. Trust me; it will _feel_ so, _so _good." He leaned back to get comfy, his insidious grin overbearing and smug. "Just take it like a man and then you can help Dean… finally know him… _save_ him. Isn't that what little Sammy wants? To _fix_ Dean?"

"Just shut up!"

Leviathan looked hurt, blinking back his imaginary tears. "What? So now you _don't _want to hear the gory details? _Now_ you want to do what big brother wants? A little late, don'tcha think? Pretty boy's already faced the music, already knows the jig is up." He smiled then, quietly observing how his words dug into the memories, conjuring up the images long buried, a shout from the past taunting and bringing _then_ forward into _now_.

"_Hey, pretty boy, you lookin' for some action?"_

The memory swept over Sam in a rush of sheer panic as a teenage Dean tensed, his eyes flashing with an undefined pain before the familiar gritty determination took over. He pulled Sam back to his side squeezing his shoulders as he stepped between him and the older boys. His voice was distant but firm as he locked eyes with his kid brother.

"Sammy, go home."

"Dean, _don't_."

"I said, go home… NOW!"

Sam shuffled away as Dean pushed him off. He started to run, his breath racing from his lungs, hoping, _praying_ that Dad was home. _Damn it, Dean, there're three of them and they're older… bigger. _He turned the corner and John was leaning over the engine of the Impala, tools in hand as his son skidded to a stop before him.

Breathless he exclaimed, "Dad, Dean's fighting in the park."

John looked up and stared at his son with cold, dark eyes, no emotion registering.

"Dad… _please_, there're three of 'em… They're huge! They're gonna kill him."

John sucked in a deep breath and continued to stare, his brows furrowed in concentration. Finally his gaze left his son and moved in the direction of the park two blocks away.

"What started it?"

"What!?" Sam gasped. _What the hell difference?_

Calmly but firmly John repeated himself with a clear undertone of I-am-not-going-to-say-it-again, "How'd it start?"

"The guy called Dean a pretty boy."

John slunk back against the fender of the car as his hand massaged down his face.

"Dad… he's gonna get killed!"

John stayed pressed against the car, waiting.., too much time passing.

His fifteen-year-old son was getting beaten to death in the park and the great John Winchester stood indecisive and still.

_Damn, I hate you… He's your son and you do nothing?_

Sam's insides shook as the all too familiar feelings of hate and anger rose up just like they did back then. All the years that had passed between then and now doing nothing to dull the intense reaction: his worry for Dean and disgust over Dad's pitiful response mixing together in a bitter cocktail. His mind swam trying to understand the significance of this memory, how it fit in the puzzle that was Dean.

It wasn't the first fight Dean ever got in and it certainly wasn't the last, there was just something in Dean's eyes that day that made it stand out. That and the fact that Dad actually happened to be around, lot of good _that_ did.

"SAM!?" Bobby was standing before him wildly snapping his fingers and looking inquisitively at the younger Winchester. Sam was dragged totally back to the present and he tried to focus on the intent gaze upon him as Bobby's words struggled to break through the thick shroud of memories he was buried within. "Sam, where the hell were ya?"

"What? Huh? Ah, yeah… Bobby."

"Where were you?"

Sam quickly stole a glance at the demon, the smug smirk and the glint of his eyes hinting that he _knew_. He shuddered from the sick feeling slinking through his insides, feeling like he was again defiling his brother, betraying him and playing into the demon's twisted plans. He felt on the cusp of a great discovery, some hidden insight into their past, desired but also dreaded.

The information he needed to reveal all teetering right there before him just waiting for him to grab hold and pull it in before it slipped backward into the abyss and disappeared forever.

He was seeing that long-ago time with fresh eyes, not blinded by hero-worship and his unwavering allegiance to his brother. It was almost like he was actually there again, only now an outsider standing on the sidelines quietly observing and for the first time noticing the subtle nuances behind the words and actions as they unfolded.

Bobby was in his face though, his insistent presence keeping him from his reflections.

Bobby pressed onward, demanding Sam's full attention. "You're a million miles away. What'cha thinkin'?"

Sam shifted uneasy and studied Bobby's face, the concern evident in his searching eyes, his brows arched in a lingering question as he battered the young hunter. Sam paused while his mind came to terms with the convergence of all his thoughts. Again trying to fill in the blanks, piece together the truth from the distant memories, desperate to understand all the fragments that littered his mind. So many disjointed images only now starting to make sense in the patchwork quilt that made up Dean's life.

He was finally opening his eyes to the unbiased reality that had been waiting all these years for him to grow into the knowledge, at last ready to question everything he thought he knew about his family. Old enough now to hear the truth of their lives and help bear the pain.

He turned and walked away from the demon, drawing Bobby with him so they could talk out of earshot of Evil.

Sam hesitated, all the thoughts swirling about him overwhelming and he only needed to clearly see them, to take the time to finally digest the truth and find the answers locked deep inside his own head. He turned to their old friend, the only one who might hold a clue besides Dean; because Dad was gone and Dean wasn't talking, not now… maybe not ever. "Bobby, how often was Dean called a pretty boy?"

Bobby grunted and looked away, checking the door to insure they were still alone. The last thing Dean needed was to come upon another betrayal, another frank discussion of the messy details of his life. Disappointment and concern crept into his voice as he replied, "Sam… what the hell you doin'?"

"Bobby, _please,_ just answer me."

"Sam, just let it be, will ya?"

"Why? Why'd it upset him so?" Sam was always persistent, like a pit bull fighting for a bone, a family trait. His eyes pleaded as he questioned everything he'd ever known about his brother. Desperately trying to reach past all the nasty, perverse lies Leviathan told and uncover the _real_ truth, whatever that might be. Even if it turned out to be uncomfortable or painful, knowing the truth could only truly hurt them if they refused to face it. Knowing that together they could conquer anything and that Dean would only be stronger with him by his side.

Bobby's voice was gruff and matter-of-fact, "He's a _guy, _Sam_._ Dean always was good-looking, but no guy wants to be called pretty.., especially your brother."

"But why'd it make him fight?"

The anger and disgust in Bobby's voice was evident, simmering within the words, threatening to erupt. "What're you talkin' about?" he grunted.

Sam was more determined than ever. Once he embarked on this journey he was determined to finish it, searching out any answers to piece together the puzzle. "I remember when we were kids; some jerk called Dean a pretty boy and he took on three guys, older and bigger. Bobby, he almost got killed."

Bobby released a huff while his eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess he didn't, _right?_ That's Dean, son. Don't you know your brother by now? He ain't gonna back down from a fight."

"No, Bobby… That's just it… I _don't _know him. At least not the part he hides. But I want to. Bobby… I _need_ to before it's… " Sam's voice broke off, his eyes drowning in tears, his lips quivering from need. "Why won't he talk to me? Tell me what's going on in there?"

Bobby faced Sam down, straight on, steely eyes offering up their own misty tears threatening to break free. "Maybe 'cause he don't want to think about those days. Why can't you just let it be?" The anger was filling out the words, the glare of his eyes reinforcing the painful emotions.

Sam looked up, tender eyes broken and pleading, his brows quirking as his mouth twitched up nervously. "'Cause he's my brother."

Bobby looked sad and defeated before shaking it off. Bobby wasn't one to give up and let circumstances get the better of him. He harshly commanded him, "Drop it, Sam. No good will come of it." He clamped a huge paw of a hand on Sam's shoulder and offered him a quick shake before he walked past him and exited the room.

Sam stared after him, his mind still trying to come to terms. He couldn't just drop it. It wasn't in his nature, not when Dean's future hung in the balance.

With time still on hold as they waited for the other demons to attack, his mind had further room to explore his thoughts, time to drag up the flickering images and study them in more detail. He concentrated on that hot afternoon in the park, drawing out the memories. He was older then, not like the other memories when he was just a kid. These memories were clearer, more defined, although he still hadn't realized the significance at the time, what it all meant in the grand puzzle of Dean.

It was sweltering hot in the Deep South. Atlanta, he thought. Dad had come home early from a hunt the day before, the Impala had been running a little rough and he was doing routine maintenance, fine-tuning her to keep her at peak performance. He'd been in and out all day, picking up parts at the AutoZone when he wasn't buried under the hood. John's devotion to the car legendary, always maintaining the Impala in tip-top shape, giving her whatever attention she needed to keep her running smooth.

Sam remembered how angry that had always made him. How he felt like he and Dean were ignored while the car and hunting seemed to place higher on the charts than the man's own flesh and blood. Dean never acknowledged a hint of a problem, instead working tirelessly by his dad's side; always acquiescing to whatever John wanted him to do, be it working on the car or cleaning the weapons or training for hours upon hours in the grueling sun. Sam remembered countless nights of Dean falling into bed exhausted from the relentless training and maneuvers.

And Dean never complained. In fact, by his teens it seemed like he relished the physical demands Dad placed on him, devoting more and more time to his training, becoming almost obsessive about it. His days filled to capacity with chores and training and watching over his kid brother. Schoolwork getting short-shifted as his rare spare time began to focus on a steady stream of girls.

Even in his early teens Dean pursued women with the same fervent desire he'd always reserved for hunting, plunging in with abandon and passion, determined to experience it all. While still relatively young, he took to staying out late and dragging in early; a glint in his eye, a smirk on his lips, and the hint of a wild tale that was too X-rated for the delicate ears of his kid brother.

As was always the case with Dean everything seemed to hinge on Dad; the older son always hyper aware of Dad's expectations and surrendering all else to second place. Sam the only one who ever threatened to compete for first place in Dean's heart. Dean forever torn between the two of them.

He never groveled for Dad's approval, but he certainly always sought it, subtly and covertly, pushing his body beyond its limits, refusing to accept that he couldn't do everything Dad expected perfectly. And Dad always pushed, demanding more and more at every training session until Dean appeared to be the perfect fighting machine, but in spite of everything he was still a boy… and there were three of them in the park that day.

Sam knew without question what Dean's response would be when he was inevitably beaten to a bloody pulp. Sam had witnessed it before on too many occasions, how all Dean would see was the shame of letting Dad down; never the truth that it might be the opposite, that Dad had let _him_ down. That maybe three older, bigger boys were more than he could be expected to handle. After all, he was barely fifteen that day.

_Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry… Daddy, please don't hate me. _

The words hit hard and fast, twisting his gut, and making him gasp from the impact. Too many memories now, crowding together in his mind, grinding against each other and he couldn't sort through them. That previous dark night in the car as they raced towards Bobby's replaying on a loop. Stark and real emotions of fear and sadness assaulting him as he witnessed his big brother growing ever smaller as he folded in on himself in the backseat of the car.

In the days and weeks that came after, those sad, expressive eyes followed every move Dad made, gauging what he wanted. For the longest amount of time Dean seemed to be seeking out whatever response could possibly bring about forgiveness. For what, Sam had no clue. The tension at Bobby's was thick and suffocating, heavy like an iron sheet pressing down on them, welded in place and stifling hot from the lack of fresh air.

Dean finally buckled under the intense pressure, acting out like a typical disaffected teenager around his brother and Bobby, moody and sullen, but never with Dad. Always the obedient soldier with Dad. Still trying to garner acceptance… forgiveness… _something;_ whatever it was, that only Dad could provide.

Dean barely spoke unless directly questioned and then he only responded with any interest to his dad, snapping to attention with a sharp 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' and then expectantly waiting for a morsel of a response in turn. Constantly watching his dad with wary eyes. Listless and uninterested in anything except his training; only coming alive within the physical exertion.

At night as the day wound down and they all congregated inside Bobby's house Dean was again quiet and unengaged, playing with his food at the supper table and barely eating. When questioned he typically responded his stomach hurt and he wasn't hungry, while his eyes betrayed his contempt at being subjected to any scrutiny. Again shrinking down ever smaller, almost like he wished he could simply disappear.

He would nervously twist in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence that greeted them at the dinner table on the rare days when they all met up at the same time to eat. Dean looking down, Bobby and John looking away; Sam the only one looking at all the parties present and trying to understand what this silence was that entombed them. It didn't last long each night before Dean would excuse himself to wander in the salvage yard, alone and bitter.

Sam found him there on several occasions with a stolen bottle of beer or even whiskey, curled up on the bench seat of an old junker, near drunk and muttering things that didn't make any sense. His heart bleeding out through soulful eyes.

At the time Sam was partly relieved Dean wasn't just Dad's mindless soldier and appeared to have some teenage rebellion left in him after all, but then the main part of him worried that it was so not like Dean and he hated to see him like that, depressed and angry all the time.

That's when the extra training really started in full force. After the first tense week with little to no activity, Dean started running every morning and night, and lifting weights at all hours of the day and night with swollen hands, bruised from long practice sessions with the punching bag. He should have been physically bulking up, and he was more defined and muscular, but with him not eating he was still far too lean. Each day his eyes seemed to sink further into dark circles on his face, and sharing a bed like the brothers did made Sam acutely aware that he wasn't sleeping… tossing and turning, violently jarring him awake in the depths of the night as nightmares rocked the darkness.

Whenever Sam tried to talk to him, he shut down, moving away, distancing himself and going more and more inward. Sam didn't know how to respond to Dean withdrawing from him so he silently followed him around, watching and hoping the old Dean would soon return. A shocking part of him actually wished Dad would come back from his damn hunts and do something to fix Dean. Wondering how he could leave them at Bobby's for so long unattended when it was obvious that something was wrong.

Sam just didn't know what. Or how to make it right.

It didn't take much for his wish for the old Dean's return to be granted. He was initially so relieved to have his protective big brother back it took a few minutes of terror for the reality to intrude into his perfect fantasy. The fierce tone of Dean's voice and the wild look in his eyes that afternoon showed a side of his brother he'd never before witnessed and it shocked him.

It was the first time Dean ever scared him, although it certainly wouldn't be the last. His deal with the crossroads demon the last in a long line of terrors Dean had imposed on their relationship.

"What the hell you doing? Get away from him."

Dean appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Sam and whirling him around behind him; his arms protectively holding him away from this man on Bobby's porch. The stranger was an average-looking man, work shirt hanging open over a black t-shirt and faded jeans, actually rather short and slight and hardly threatening. The man smiled and raised up his hands in a friendly protest.

"Hey, look, kid… "

"I'm not a kid," Dean snarled. And at all of thirteen, Dean believed it.

The stranger lowered his hands, all the while grinning like an idiot who had no idea the danger lurking within this boy as he again moved forward while reaching into his back pocket pulling out a mechanic's rag and a wrench. That slight movement was all it took and Dean attacked him, knocking him off the porch and onto the ground, landing hard on top of him and wrestling the wrench from his hand before drawing it up and holding it poised in the air threatening to come crashing down into the man's terrified face. "No!" the man cried out in shock, his forearms desperately trying to shield his face from the coming blow.

Dean froze, his raised arm shaking, his entire body trembling, stretched taut and ready to snap. The sweat on his face glistened and he heaved, gasping for breath… for control. His eyes flickered and he suddenly glanced about like he only then realized where he was and what he was about to do. He suddenly appeared uncomfortable sitting on top of the man like this and shifted back quickly onto his outstretched legs, his voice grunting out, "Don't move… just don't move."

The screen door squeaked as Bobby opened it, slamming against the front of the house as he rushed past Sam and down the stairs as soon as he assessed the scene. He grabbed hold of Dean's upraised arm holding the wrench and jerked the boy up and off the stranger. Dean fought him, breaking free and scrambling back toward the stairs of the porch.

"What kind of a freak you got there? All I did… "

"Just git… NOW!" Bobby cut off the man. One glowering look was all it took and the man got up, dusting off his already dirty and worn clothes and staggering away.

"Better put a leash on your dog, Singer," he scowled as he back-stepped towards his car.

Leviathan was whistling in the other room, a familiar tune but Sam couldn't quite place it. Something Dean would recognize, he was sure of that. Sam staggered over to a faded, upholstered easy chair and sank down into the cushions, running his hand down his face in a nervous swipe. His mind was overloaded with the feelings and the memories, bringing on more doubts. Each new memory building upon the last and making him wonder how he could have ignored all the signs over the years. Why hadn't he seen the patterns, recognized the stress that wore at Dean? How he'd acted out back then, not always the steady presence his kid brother remembered.

Why had he been content all these years to be the protected? The pampered little brother? Why had he never before seen the toll on Dean that was so clear now?

Hindsight is 20/20, especially when grown-up eyes replace the innocent eyes of a hero-worshipping child.

He forced his mind to focus on the fight in Atlanta. He remembered the terror racing through his body that sweltering day as he glared at his dad as precious minutes slipped by before John finally slammed the hood of the car down and eased into the driver's seat.

His voice was gravelly and terse as he gruffly commanded his son, "You comin'?"

Sam raced to the passenger side and hopped in as John started the powerful engine, revving it for a few seconds before throwing it into gear.

Instead of peeling out of the driveway and racing to his son's rescue, he drove cautiously, every traffic rule followed to the letter of the law as he traveled at the speed limit of 25 MPH around the park. He was deliberate and controlled, the car purring beneath them as the barren, inner-city slums out the window slowly rolled by. Sam was bouncing in the seat beside him, his face stretched thin with worry. _I could run faster than you're driving!_

The fight was almost over by the time they pulled up to the curb. Two of the older boys were already down on the pavement while the third was landing blow after blow to Dean's battered body. Dean turned to protect his kidneys, taking the blows head-on in his stomach before twisting slightly and landing his own upper-cut to the glass jaw of this bully. The older boy wavered and stepped back and Dean went for the kill. He followed through with another fist to the face and three more blows to the gut in quick succession and the bully went down in a heap.

Dean teetered for a moment before he collapsed to his knees, panting for breath with his entire body spasming. He stilled on the pavement, his body bent over, shuddering through the aftershocks of the severe beating he'd taken. Sam started to jump out of the car to go to him when a strong hand gripped his forearm holding him back.

"No. Let him be."

"Dammit, he's hurt."

"Wait."

"WAIT? For what? He's hurt. Dad, _please…_ "

"Sam, I said no."

They sat in the car watching. Dean hunched over on crumpled legs, his head down and even from where they were Sam could see the blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Blood mixing with the dirt and the grime on his white t-shirt, stained and torn. The lean muscles in his chest and arms tense and glistening with sweat that drenched through his thin t-shirt and caused it to stick to his back, his arms wrapped tight around his middle as he heaved and shuddered.

It seemed like an eternity before he put out a shaky hand to the pavement to steady himself and he slowly started to rise. His mouth contorting from the pain and Sam swore he heard the grunt that surely was wrenched from his lips.

He finally was standing, swaying slightly from side to side as he took small, deliberate steps toward home, each foot dragging along the pavement causing him to stumble over the smallest pebble. It was agonizing to watch this young, broken boy barely able to move one foot in front of the other, but that was all Sam was allowed to do… _watch. _He turned to shoot daggers at his cruel, insensitive, drill sergeant of a father and was startled by the sight of his tough dad shaking, his bottom lip trembling, and Sam swore he saw a tear roll down his cheek before he quickly turned away to check for traffic as he pulled away from the curb.

If Sam thought the drive to the park was slow, it was nothing compared to the agonizingly slow drive home. Dad kept the car behind Dean's staggering trek. Several times Dean stopped to catch his breath, leaning precariously against a trash can or chain-link fence before summoning the strength to trudge on. He was almost home when he stopped the final time, the wait interminable as he slumped against a withered old tree and didn't move.

Sam was ready to scream at his dad to _do something, _when John pulled past his son and parked in the driveway. Before Sam could get his door open, John had piled out and was by Dean's side, pulling his arm up over his shoulders as his legs buckled finally offering to drop him hard to the ground. John gripped his side and eased him back up. Leaning on his dad's strong frame, Dean found the strength to keep walking, his legs half dragged along as John slowly led him into the house, laying him on the sofa as he yelled at Sam to get the first aid box.

Time flashed forward and back in the present, Sam's eyes teared up; the memory so fresh and vivid. It was the first time he'd seen Dean truly hurt and he remembered it all, the tension that filled the room as Dad tended to Dean's injuries, the muffled moans his brother tried so hard to hold back. Even then Dean was determined to hide his pain, deny his hurts, be the strong soldier his dad expected him to be; while the totality of his anguish screamed out through shattered eyes each time they opened and drew wide.

There had been a real concern about internal injuries. Dean gasping from the sharp stabs that radiated through his body as Dad worked his fingers over the mottled bruising on his ribs checking for breaks, finally determining they were only cracked and a good taping would allow them to heal. The expanse of tape that eventually covered his chest made him resemble a mummy, while his slow and stilted gait whenever he tried to move mostly mimicked Frankenstein's monster.

To complete the horror, Dean's face looked like the creature in a monster flick, swollen and distorted with one eye completely closed off, his nose broken with a river of blood cascading from it to soak through his t-shirt. Sam remembered the efficient way Dad snapped it back into place and the black bruising that lasted weeks. And he remembered the days after… Dean's sullen attitude, distant and withdrawn, while Dad was angry and tense and drinking too much, leaving soon after for another hunt.

That first night after Dad left, Dean got loaded on beer and became loud and belligerent, cursing that Dad couldn't even wait until he was fully healed before taking off again. Then the pain of his ribs caught up with him and he ended up curled up on the couch whimpering through muffled groans. That was shocking enough but later he actually cried when Sam finally maneuvered him into the bedroom and tucked him in. He was so drunk he didn't even try to hide the tears. Tears that didn't seem to stem from any physical pain. He looked up into his kid brother's face with eyes so open and hurt and defeated while he kept repeating, "I'm sorry, don't hate me."

Young Sam not understanding any of it. He could never hate his brother.

Hate was reserved for his dad.

Morning came and Dean didn't seem to remember any of it. He popped too many aspirin and guzzled a gallon of coffee and went about the business of taking care of his kid brother.

"You ready? I'll drop you at school."

"Aren't you going?" Sam quietly asked, tentative and unsure, warily observing his big brother.

"Not today. My head's killin' me. Think I'll take it easy… but you better get movin'."

Sam studied him, like he often did; only this time he really wasn't sure what he was seeing. Dean was obviously hung over but there was more… an underlying sadness. It was so not Dean. It reminded him of two years prior… at Bobby's when he'd first realized that Dean wasn't always in control. He didn't like to think in those terms 'cause it made everything seem worse than it already was. And it was already plenty bad enough.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from the coffee cup cradled in both his hands. His eyes distant and clouded over; and Sam wasn't sure if it was the liquor from the night before or something else. "What? You better move it, dude. Bell's in half an hour."

"Dean?" Sam started again then hesitated, knowing this was a loaded question and honestly not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer. "What are you sorry for?" He solemnly took another breath, his eyes never wavering from his big brother as his trembling voice continued, "Why would you think I'd hate you?"

The air sucked from the room in a whoosh and Dean froze. Sam swore he saw his hands shake as he immediately set the cup of coffee down on the kitchen table in a clatter and the cup almost tipped over. Dean's eyes slowly rose and that little boy was back, sad and terrified and so very, very lost. He cleared his throat. "What're you talkin' about?" His brows quirked and he glanced with hooded eyes at his kid brother… _waiting._

Sam shifted on his feet. He wondered why he'd asked the question when a part of him knew it would hurt Dean, instinctively knowing that he should have just let it be, ignored it like the Winchesters tended to do. _Maybe I don't belong in this family, maybe I am like the blond chick in the Munsters? _He'd already gone this far and he wasn't one to back down. Not now, not when it concerned his brother. "Last night… when you were drinking, you got really sad… Dean… you were… "

"What?" Dean softly asked, his eyes pleading for this conversation to end right now, but he knew his brother, knew once Sam latched hold of something he always wanted his answers. "_What,_ Sam?"

Sam took in a deep breath. "You started to cry and you said you were sorry and to please don't hate you. Why, Dean? What happened? What are you afraid of? Why would you think I'd ever hate you?" He managed to get all the questions out in one go, just a brisk run of questions.

He then waited for the answers.

The conversation never progressed any further.

Dean made some risqué sex comment and Sam, seeing the pain in his brother's eyes, the unspoken desperate plea, let it drop. At eleven he really wasn't looking to rock his world and how he viewed his brother. He still needed Dean to be his protector, his knight in shining armor.., his hero. _His Dean._

That was the last time Dean ever got drunk to the point of losing his faculties. He always drank, sometimes to excess, but he always knew the point to stop. He never again bared his soul in a drunken stupor, never again allowed himself the refuge of the bottle. One more restraint was placed upon his soul, one more line he refused to cross over, thereafter always maintaining that necessary firm grip on control.

Two years prior on that first night they'd arrived at Bobby's _everything_ seemed skewed and off-center, veering dangerously close to out of control. Bobby gave Sam a hug as the young boy flew into his arms, and stared with curiosity at Dean, who stood sullenly at the opposite side of the room, his arms wrapped around his middle.

"Hey there, Dean. Man, you're getting tall, boy." Bobby tried his best to break the ice, with Dean not giving a frosty inch. Dean was never as overtly demonstrative as Sam, but he'd taken to Bobby like family once they'd settled in and gotten to know each other. Bobby's home often serving as a retreat from the chaos of their lives. It wasn't unusual for John to leave his sons there for days or even weeks at a time while he was off hunting. Once they'd even stayed the entire summer.

That was Sam's fondest memory of their youth, the lazy days of summer when they almost appeared normal. It was the summer before Dean changed and embraced his training, before he whole-heartedly embarked on his journey to becoming Dad's perfect soldier. The summer before he became a teenager.

The tension in the kitchen that night hung like a persistent gnat buzzing your head until John joined them after putting the Impala to bed in the garage. He immediately helped himself to a beer out of the fridge.

"Make yourself t' home, Winchester," Bobby joked, his eyes never leaving the older boy still standing at the far end of the room. "Dean, how 'bout you? You want somethin'? A pop? Milk?"

Sam piped up, "Can I have a pop? We've been driving for _hours_." He turned to his brother and hopefully asked, "Dean, you wanna share?"

Dean shook his head no and moved closer to the backdoor, away from everyone.

"Make it a water, Bobby." John walked over to where he was standing directly in front of his oldest. He placed his hand on his shoulder and Dean tensed at the touch. "Dean, _son_… you ready for bed?"

Dean looked up, red eyes sad and lost and searching… locked in a silent moment with his dad. "Yes, sir," he barely uttered.

"Water it is." Bobby pulled down a mug from the cupboard and poured some cold water from the pitcher in the fridge. "Here ya go, Sammy."

Sam drank down a huge gulp of the liquid and offered what remained to his brother. Dean took a small sip and handed the mug back, before pulling his brother to his side and retreating with him up the stairs to the bedroom the boys always shared when they stayed at Bobby's.

As the boys were walking from the room, Bobby pulled out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and two glasses. He roughly placed them on the kitchen table and sat down with a huff.

John raised an eyebrow. "The good stuff?" he quizzed.

Bobby poured out two shots, sliding one towards John as he sat down opposite him and downing the other in a quick swallow, slamming his empty glass down on the table. "What the hell happened, John?"

--

Dean sighed as he shuffled out of his jeans, climbing into the double bed in his t-shirt and briefs and scrunching down under the covers. Sam closed the door and sloughed off his own outer clothing before sliding in beside him.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam softly asked, his eyes searching for signs, indications of what was bothering his brother.

"Nothin', Sammy. Go to sleep," Dean curtly replied, turning away from him and pulling the covers up tight under his chin. They silently laid there in bed, only their shallow breathing indicating any life existed within the four walls.

They'd been in bed for nearly an hour when the voices from downstairs pierced the still.

Bobby and John were arguing, loud voices rising up the stairs, muffled but intense, some of the words making it past the plaster and penetrating the bedroom above.

"John, goddammit, he made a mistake. You can't keep punishing him like this."

"Punishing him? You think _this _is punishment? For _him?_ He's _my_ _boy_, Bobby! You didn't _see_ him. You didn't see that bastard… his hands wrapped around…" There was a pause and then the loud clank of a bottle hitting the table. "Every damn time I look at him, I see it… " A chair pushed across the floor and then it sounded like it tipped over. "I can't get it out of my head!" Another loud crash indicated John had hit something… the wall? Bobby? It was hard to tell, the sounds just told of the anguish and with no pictures to match up it was left to both brothers to fill in the blanks.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at the back of his brother. Dean was curled up with his legs drawn up, the pillow pulled tight around his ears as he tried to get as small as he could. His breathing was louder, hitching unexpectedly before a muffled sniffle broke through. Sam scooted across the bed and reached out his hand and lightly touched his shoulder. The touch registered like a branding iron with Dean bolting from it, crashing off the side of the bed, banging his shoulder on the nightstand and landing in a heap on the floor.

"God, Dean, I'm sorry. Dean, what is it?"

Dean scrambled back up, wrapping his arms around his middle, the tears forming in his eyes visible from the barest light streaming in the window from the full moon. His voice sounding broken, but defiant, "It's nothin', ya hear me? Go to sleep, Sam." He backed away, grabbing his jeans off the floor and turning toward the doorway, disappearing down the hallway into the bathroom. The door slammed shut and after a few minutes Sam heard the shower turn on.

"So, Sam, you done? Can we exorcise this worthless piece of shit back to Hell now, or you got more questions?"

Sam startled, his head rising up from his pensive thoughts to stare into Dean's piercing green eyes. A man standing before him, bold and sure, the child from so long ago again buried, hidden away beneath layers of determination.

"You listenin'?" The tone of Dean's voice was pure annoyance, defiant and combative. "We need to send this bastard packin' before the others show up… that is unless you still feel the need to chat." His response quickly changing to one of cocky bravado as the snide words slipped into his familiar smartass attitude.

Sam studied his brother, needing to confront him once and for all and get his answers, yet not wanting to hurt him any further. Knowing pressing the matter now would do precisely that. His heart ached for what he now suspected… _feared… _knowing the truth could no longer be denied and was destined to come out, understanding it would be painful for both of them, but most especially for Dean and he regretted that with every fiber of his being.

"SAM! Don't got all day… seven deadly sins… the apocalypse… night comin'. Ya with me here?"

"Yeah, right," Sam meekly replied, all passion drained from him. "Go ahead. I won't stop you."

Dean snickered, his lips curling into a sneer. "You won't, huh? Good to know. Guess you _can _follow orders… _on occasion_." Dean seemed to be itching for a fight, a response he was comfortable with. Always ready to answer a problem with his fists or scathing repartee.

"Dean… " Sam rose up, ready to defend his stance, ready to again go at it.

"WHAT?" Dean immediately bracing against his brother's pleas; pushing him away with his words. "I don't have time for your issues, Sam. We've got _six demons_ coming for us. You think maybe we should concentrate on that? Leave your little drama for later… that is if we're still alive?" The words were cold and cutting and cruel, only Dean's eyes denying the chill, eyes filled with hurt and love and regret, buried beneath all the pain but lingering there in the depths.

Sam couldn't help himself, when Dean attacked he answered with his own attack. The brothers being typical brothers, going head to head against each other; hashing out their issues with words that cut to the bone, threatening to undo them.

"Dean, I just want to know the truth. For once, just tell me the truth."

"Or what? You gonna hold your breath? Turn blue and pass out?"

"WHAT?" Sam blurted out, his eyes wide and wild, disbelieving. "What are you talking about, Dean? Turn blue?"

"Yeah, like when you were a kid and you didn't get your way. Throw yourself a little temper tantrum?"

"I _never_ heard that before. What the hell, Dean?"

"What? Now _you're_ gonna get upset about some stupid secret? Huh, Sammy? It don't matter… what difference? You were a kid."

"But it _did_ happen? It _is _true?"

Disgusted Dean raised his brows and scowled in puzzlement, "What?"

"Holding my breath… turning blue?"

"Yeah, Sam. God, what difference? You've always had a temper. If you didn't get your way you'd hold your breath and turn blue." Dean scoffed at the shocked look on his brother's face. "_What?_ It's what kids do. Dad said you'd come to and you did. It didn't take long for you to figure out it wasn't gonna work. You always were a smart kid, Sammy. You learned your little fits were a bust."

Leviathan smiled as the brothers engaged in their verbal exchange, his heart soaring at the misery it brought the Winchesters. Each brother locked into their boyhood responses, each lashing out with uncensored words. He always seemed to have his way with humans… they were so very weak, so ready to fall apart at the first hint of anguish. _So very delicious!_

"Boys… BOYS!" he interrupted, no longer able to stand being ignored.

Turning in disgust both brothers simultaneously exclaimed, "SHUT UP!"

The tension seemed to fracture apart and the brothers each paused before shifting to study the other. Dean's lips quickly turning up into a smirk, like he'd just thought of a funny story and was eager to share it with his best friend, his brother; his ability to turn on a dime again evident as he buried the hurt and focused on the demon and the job still left to be done… and the pleasure of seeing this evil get what he deserved.

Sam as usual more stubborn, holding on to the guilt and anger, but wishing he could make it right for Dean. Watching with fascination as his brother again plastered on his confident, cocky game face and for a moment grateful Dean could recover so quickly from the pain… just like he'd always managed to do.

Dean smiled at the bastard beneath the devil's trap, his eyes shining at the thought of sending him back to Hell. "Oh, I'm _sorry_… we making you wait?" He laughed in the demon's face. "Didn't mean to ignore you, buddy boy, but you're right. Time's up."

"You exorcise me back to Hell and I'll be waiting for you, Dean. We _all_ will… I gotta say, you were all the buzz… back when you made that deal. The line started forming straight away. Everyone wants a piece of Dean Winchester. Your dance card's already full. You're going to be the most popular girl at the prom."

Dean smirked as he opened his arms in a mock bow, "Hell, can't help it if I'm adorable. I think it's the dazzling personality." He popped the collar of his leather coat and preened before the demon, his eyes shining with glee. "Or could be the wardrobe." He turned to his brother, drawing him into the conversation. "What'cha think, Sammy?"

Sam looked on in awe. Dean again seamlessly morphing into the bold, cocky hero. Nothing fazing him, no worries or fear. Everything little Sammy had admired about his brother right there on display before him, but now he knew there was more… the hidden Dean that was lingering in the shadows. He forced himself to smile, to offer his brother this moment of denial before their world came crashing down around them.

"I think it's definitely the fashion sense, backed up by the 'tude."

Dean quirked his head in a nod; his eyes twinkling in appreciation that Sam would support him on this. So hard to tell how Sam was going to react now, everything twisted and off-kilter… bent out of shape and both were just trying to hold on. It was a hard-fought battle, but as brothers they were out to win.

Pushing on, Leviathan refused to surrender to the force of the Winchesters. "Sammy, you think poor Dean had a rough life? You ain't seen _nothin'_ yet. You can't imagine Hell… but Dean, you've thought about it… right? It's _all_ you think about… All the nightmares… the terror filled nights when you wake up in a cold sweat… " He smiled as he twisted his double-edged knife, slicing into both of the Winchesters in one swift move. "Don't worry about it, Dean… you'll be warm soon enough. Nice and toasty… Don't forget the marshmallows."

"Oh, _right…_ But it looks like _you're _gonna have to do without. Sorry, they weren't on the shopping list. Guess you're just shit outta luck. No s'mores for you." Dean turned to his brother with a wink. "Have at it, Sam. Hell's a' waitin'." He leaned in toward the demon bound to the chair before him. "Enjoy the ride."

Leviathan's voice increased in volume, his growing terror evident as he struggled against his restraints trying to get at the hunters. "Go ahead, Dean… play it cool." He turned toward Sam, again trying to drag him into his web. "That's why he acts so cavalier, Sammy. Denial… he's desperately trying to pretend he's cool with dying… with traipsing off to Hell, but the truth is he's terrified… and rightly so."

Dean smirked, again leaning in and taunting the demon, "I think you're the one who's terrified… _and rightly so_." He raised his eyes back up to his brother. "SAM!" He nodded in the direction of the demon, his eyes telling him to proceed.

The demon hastily cut in, trying to have his say before he vacated the premises. "Always with the cocky smartass response. Sammy, your brother _is _Joan of Arc, y'know… always the martyr; ready to _die_ for his family… for justice and right… or _whatever. _Maybe he just _wants _to die? Ya think? End his suffering… call it quits." The demon stared at Dean, silently challenging him with his look. He licked his lips before turning them up into a familiar sneer. "Just.. give.. up.. "

Dean smirked in response, his eyes glistening with defiance.

Sam immediately jumped in to defend Dean. "He's not a quitter."

"No? You sure about that? He's tired, Sammy. Hasn't he told you that? Back with that whole Croatoan virus? Wasn't he ready to hold hands with you and drive off that cliff? Have himself a little Thelma and Louise?"

Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Chick flicks? Are you fucking serious? Mighta known that'd be your style. Y'know, I'm thinking those ugly-ass green shoes were more what _you_ were looking for. Huh, Lucille? You into the whole cross-dressing scene? How about some fishnets? That do it for ya?"

Evil turned toward Dean and smirked. "Hilarious…. You're just a bundle of funny, aren'tcha, Dean?"

"Funnier than you." Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms with relish, his eyebrows arching over expectant eyes. "Alrighty then, good times are over. Someone send this clown packing."

Tamara stepped forward; she'd walked up with Bobby at just the right moment as all the hunters united against the demon. "My pleasure."

Dean nodded in agreement; after all, she'd just lost her husband to these demons. It could never replace her loss, but he could give her this small satisfaction. Revenge could be sweet when you had nothing else.

Tamara started reading the Latin exorcism as the Winchesters and Bobby left the room. It didn't take long before a gust of air and an explosion of sound extinguished all the candles in close proximity to the demon.

"Demon's out of the guy."

"And the guy?"

"He didn't make it."

--

The last lines of salt were laid and the hunters waited for the demons to come. It wouldn't be long now. Dean was again avoiding Sam while Sam seemed to be stalking him, following just outside his field of vision, hoping for an in to apologize again. Hoping for some form of absolution, even though he knew it wasn't deserved. Hoping against hope that Dean would relent and tell him the truth, fill in the missing blanks and end this dance they were playing at.

The amber glow of the candles cast the room in an eerie light as Dean sat on the floor intently loading his shotgun. Against a rustic backdrop of shadow and light Sam was filling bottles with holy water and the brothers locked their gaze upon each other. This might be the end of everything, their final battle. The odds were staggering. Sam offered his brother one last, hopeful look and was met by solemn recognition, Dean at least giving him that much. The tension between them was strong, but the brotherly bond was still there, battered and bruised, but forever beating out their love and devotion in a steady rhythm. Sam had to believe they'd get past this… that Dean would release his anger and reveal his hurts. It was all he hoped for… that and a way out of Dean's demon deal. That is if they survived the night.

The music on the radio flipped on and Dean rose, a look of solidarity in the coming battle on his face as he spoke, "Here we go."

TBC

_I know your time is precious and you have hundreds of choices in stories to read so thank you for reading mine. And I know it takes even more time to click that little review box, but any and all comments are always welcome. _

_Thanks so much to the ones who have reviewed… it is so appreciated. I spend entirely too much of my time on these stories and the pressures of the outside world are constantly trying to sidetrack me. It's nice to know my efforts are worth it._

_Take care, B.J._


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